


Not Who She Expected

by Kizmet



Series: Making a New Life [1]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M, Love Triangles, Romance, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-04 19:53:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1085059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kizmet/pseuds/Kizmet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Bulma's relationship with Yamcha ends and her relationship with Vegeta begins cause and effect are becoming hard to differentiate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude: Questions

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a fan of the Viz Manga version of DBZ first and that's my primary source for 'cannon'. 
> 
> Reposting from Fanfiction.net 
> 
> Disclaimer: Characters and settings are the property of Akira Toriyama, I'm just borrowing them because Vegeta is too tempting not to borrow.

Bulma Briefs, inventor, adventurer and the heiress to the Capsule Corporation stepped out of her sporty little hovercar. She was tall and slender, her aquamarine hair was piled on top of her head in a crown of curls. Her red miniskirt was tight and not an inch longer than good taste demanded, the matching top left her shoulders bare. Her face was marred by a sulky frown as she re-capsulized the car and tucked it into her purse.

The reason for her frown; her boyfriend Yamcha had cut his hair short again. Sure she’d been the one to make him do it the first time but the current ‘in’ style reminded her of the unfortunate haircut Chichi had forced on little Gohan before they left for Namek and well-

Bulma sighed. She’d sworn she’d never get back together with Yamcha after he cheated on her the last time, but when Yamcha had been getting ready for the Saiyan’s arrival he’d stopped worrying about his appearance and let himself go back to looking all wild and dangerous. The long, out of control hair and darker attitude had just reminded Bulma so strongly of the bandit boy he’d been when he became the first love of her life. There was no way she could have resisted giving their relationship just one more chance. And then he’d died just as they were heating up as a couple again. When he returned from the dead months later Bulma felt it was a minor miracle that she’d resisted the temptation to jump him on the spot.

But now that there wasn’t a crisis on the horizon Yamcha was switching back over to the person he’d become after she brought him home that first time. With his hair cut fashionably short he looked like everyone else. Bulma smirked, well not like everyone else, Yamcha had a ruggedly handsome face even with the unflattering haircut and he had a body to die for. When she’d first seen him Bulma had thought Yamcha was the dreamiest guy ever. But as the years went on he’d slipped out of first place when it came to having the best body. Goku had grown-up into one hot guy in Bulma’s opinion, even if thinking about innocent little Goku like that weirded her out; Goku was like her little brother. And of course there was the other Saiyan who was now living on Earth. There were a lot of bad things you could say about Vegeta, none of them pertained to his body.

Speaking of the devil, Vegeta stalked across the driveway. “Woman! You’re out of those roll things.”

Bulma scowled. There was nothing wrong with Vegeta’s body, as for the rest of him... “If we’re out of the ‘roll things’ it’s because you ate them all.”

“Why haven’t you gotten me more?” Vegeta demanded with his signature glare.

A small part of Bulma felt like she should be afraid. Vegeta was the most powerful being on Earth at the moment since Goku had elected to make his own way home rather than allowing himself to be wished back. Vegeta was evil, he spent most of his life purging planets and he hadn’t even been sorry when he told the Namekians that their missing village hadn’t come back to life with the rest of them because it had been him who killed them rather than Frieza. But he’d been the one to tell them how to bring Goku back when they thought he’d been lost forever. Vegeta could have been the strongest in the Universe, but he chose to give them the key to bringing Goku back rather than celebrating the stronger fighter’s demise. Bulma was certain Vegeta had his own reasons for doing what he did, but she wondered if, underneath it all, there might be a decent person lurking inside Vegeta.

Logic told Bulma to be afraid of Vegeta, to give in when he tried to intimidate her but her heart wasn’t afraid and her pride wouldn’t let her back down. After all Vegeta was a guest in her home and he could damn well act the part. She glared right back at him and actually closed the distance between them to force the shorter Vegeta to look up to maintain eye contact.

His nose wrinkled in disgust at her proximity. “What did you do to your hair woman?” he said. “It smells -and looks- like something crawled on top of your head and died there.”

Her new perm, Bulma realized with a touch of annoyance. Well to be honest she could still smell the harsh perming chemicals, it was only natural that they’d offend a Saiyan’s more sensitive nose.

Bulma primped her new curls and smiled sweetly. “It’s my new arrogant ass repellent,” she said. “I’m glad to see it’s working.” Then she sauntered past the glowering alien prince.

Once she made it to the privacy of her room Bulma plopped down in front of her vanity to study her new hairstyle critically. Sure it was all the rage but so was Yamcha’s haircut and hadn’t she just been thinking that he looked better when he did his own thing? Bulma sighed and looked at her reflection with fresh eyes. Vegeta was right she decided with disgust, the perm looked like something her mother would wear. What had possessed her to do that to herself? She couldn’t even respond to Vegeta’s taunt in kind, his flame-like shock of black hair and sharp widow’s peak suited his surprisingly delicate features perfectly and it was almost certainly just the way his hair grew.

Bulma shook her head. Yamcha could change his clothes and cut his hair and the desert bandit became just another hot guy for all the girls to swarm over. But Vegeta was always Vegeta. Even wearing something like that silly pink shirt he radiated danger and power. He’d never be just another guy. Bulma thought about the difference and decided it was desire: Yamcha wanted to be just another guy, he wanted to fit in. When she first brought him home with her he’d been so cute in his worries about being rejected by her high school friends but after a few months Yamcha could hold his own in the popular cliques. He was one of the jocks, the girls all wanted to date him and Yamcha loved every second of it. Vegeta had no interest in fitting in, he expected the universe to adapt to him.

‘And who was she?’ Bulma thought as she studied her reflection again. She was Bulma Briefs, she inherited her father’s brains, her mother’s looks and a hard-edged practicality from Kami only knew where. She was friends with the World’s -hell- the Universe’s greatest martial artists. She’d been into space and had visited an alien planet. She’d met Kami and helped bring him back to life and had seen the devil reformed. When she’d still been in High School she’d gone on a quest for the stuff of legends and even though she hadn’t been able to make a wish on the Dragonballs that time she came out of that adventure with exactly what she wanted: the best boyfriend ever. Or at least that’s what she thought about one third of the time; the other two thirds of the time were evenly divided between wondering if Yamcha really was the best boyfriend and wondering if he were really hers.

Vegeta would have laughed at their concerns about fitting in. How did you explain peer pressure to a man who didn’t see himself as having any peers? He didn’t need anyone else’s approval or support. Even though his planet and his race had been wiped out he was still Vegeta, the Saiyan-jin Prince. Bulma wondered if he ever got lonely being that unrelentingly self-sufficient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Vegeta did celebrate Goku's death in the anime; then attacked Gohan, got backed down by Piccolo and flew off, which is completely ignored when the next episode starts; Vegeta is back where he was standing before reacting to the news of Goku's death in the previous episode and this time he tells them how to arrange their wishes to revive Goku and Kuririn. In the manga Vegeta's reaction isn't reset and so that's the version of cannon I prefer for that scene.


	2. Who's Cheating?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A party at Capsule Corp. results in some tension.

Months passed and in one day the world changed. Goku came home. Frieza, the destroyer of the Sayian race, the monster who had been Vegeta’s master in all but name, came to Earth and was destroyed by a mysterious youth. The boy claimed to be from the future. He told them that three years from the day of his arrival the Earth would be conquered by Androids and all the Z-Fighters would be killed. Thus forewarned the Z-Fighters, even Vegeta, began training and preparing for the day. They were determined that they wouldn’t be beaten this time. But three years was a long time and in the meanwhile life went on.

Life even resumed a certain degree of normalcy. Eighteen months earlier Capsule Corp’s rooms had been home to alien refugees from a planet which had been utterly destroyed during the titanic battle between Frieza and Goku. Now it hosted a sparking collection of Earth’s who’s who; a veritable paparazzi mecca, if they’d been able to get past Capsule Corp security. They were Bulma’s other social set. The heirs and heiresses she’d gone to school with, a sprinkling of professional athletes, famous musicians and movie stars for color. Or as Bulma thought of them her ‘normal’ friends.

Bulma felt a thrill of nervousness when she saw Vegeta standing in the doorway surveying her party with his ever-present scowl. She’d thought it was safe to throw a party, the Namekians had left for their new planet and Vegeta rarely left the Gravity Room. Bulma had even gotten her dad to promise to be on call for repairs should the arrogant Prince break the GR at an inconvenient moment. Bulma thought she’d taken every precaution to ensure that there was no reason for Vegeta to come make a scene. The only thing Bulma could blame it on was her damn rotten luck: One of Vegeta’s rare and sporadic moments of need for human -well, sentient- contact had manifested while she had normal company over.

Vegeta didn’t look out of place, from his navy blue polo shirt and khaki slacks to his superior expression, he fit in with the other guests. In the loosely fitting clothes even his spectacular physique didn’t set him apart from the athletes. But as soon as she saw him Bulma did a mental run-through of all the ways this could turn into an unmitigated disaster. The list started with Vegeta verbally flaying some poor, ignorant human unfortunate enough to try starting a conversation with him and escalated to Vegeta committing mass murder. The former was practically a given. As for the later... Vegeta was undeniably physically and mentally capable of killing every person at the party up to and including Bulma’s martial artist expert boyfriend, but would he?

Vegeta hadn’t killed anyone during the year while Goku had been off planet. “That you know of,” a little voice that sounded suspiciously like Yamcha said in the back of her head. During that year Vegeta had arguably been the strongest person on Earth. Piccolo or Gohan might have been able to survive arguing that point but even they hadn’t chanced it. Vegeta had behaved himself then, why would he go on a killing spree now? Now that Goku was in the neighborhood and more than capable of controlling Vegeta should it come to that. Now when Vegeta had been training to help defend the Earth from the approaching threat of the Androids for over three months.

It wasn’t as if Vegeta were some wild animal who’d strayed into the party. Bulma giggled. If she were honest she had to admit that Vegeta’s manners were much more polished than Yamcha’s had been when she first brought him home from his life as a desert bandit and more polished than Goku’s ever would be. Vegeta was adaptable in a way that the other Z-Fighters weren’t. Yamcha had turned himself from a bandit into a jock but there would always be times when he looked like a clueless moron. Even when Vegeta was out of his depth he rarely looked it. Of course Vegeta primarily displayed his adaptability by demonstrating his talent for trading cutting barbs with anyone, even people unimpressed by physical prowess. Bulma gulped, if Vegeta insulted these people he’d know exactly what he was doing and they’d know he meant every syllable. He was her house guest, it would reflect poorly on her if he were too much of an ass.

Bulma hurried to Vegeta’s side. If she were there she could serve as a buffer for her guests. Given a choice between insulting her and insulting complete strangers, Vegeta would always choose her. Bulma had noticed that since the day they’d learned of the Androids Vegeta had developed a special fondness for ticking her off, she had no idea why.

* * *

  
Vegeta’s scowl changed into a smirk when he saw Bulma come running at his entrance.

Kakarrot, Goku as the humans called him, was the only person on this mudball worthy of sparring with. Vegeta fully intended to fight the other Saiyan for real once the Androids were put in their place, it wouldn’t do for him to allow Kakarrot the chance to become too familiar with his fighting style. So Vegeta found himself reduced to solitary training regimes and verbal sparring. Before, his favorite target had been that miserable bag of hot air called Yamcha. The scarred fighter loathed him and was angered by the hospitalities Bulma extended to him but no matter how much Vegeta wound Yamcha up he could always get the other fighter to back down with the slightest raise of his ki. Vegeta had been responsible for Yamcha’s death and Yamcha couldn’t face Vegeta without being haunted by that fact.

But the entertainment Vegeta got out of humiliating Yamcha paled beside trading barbs with Bulma. The woman wasn’t a warrior by any stretch of the imagination. Vegeta hadn’t bothered to really take note of her until she’d gone with them to confront Frieza; to face her death head on. That was when Vegeta realized that while she wasn’t a fighter in body, she was in spirit. He could kill her with a flick of his finger but she wouldn’t back down from their verbal spars. Vegeta found that he liked that. Oh, he was aware that the woman had some silly subconscious faith that he wouldn’t hurt her because he’d told them how to revive Kakarrot. In a way she was right, he wouldn’t hurt her, but not because of any latent goodness in him. Vegeta had too much pride to end a fight with Bulma through physical violence. If he ever did that he might as well admit that he couldn’t match the woman mentally and he’d be damned before he did that. And she was too useful to him, she provided him with the things he needed while staying on Earth. Besides he wasn’t ready to fight Kakarrot just yet and if he killed Bulma now who would he argue with?

Vegeta’s smirk deepened. He’d already won the opening round of this battle with the woman and he hadn’t even said a word. Bulma was jumping at his whims and she didn’t even realize it. Vegeta started piling food on a ridiculously undersized plate. He gave the appetizers a disgusted look, ‘Why would anyone make food in such small portions? Still they did smell good.’

“Those are just to nibble on,” Bulma said as she took his arm. “If you want a meal I’m sure my mother would be happy to whip something up for you in the kitchen.”

Vegeta chose not to let her move him. He ate one of the good smelling things. “This is acceptable woman.”

Bulma’s eyes flashed. She glanced around at her guests then gave a fakey-sweet laugh. “I know it’s a challenge, but do try to remember my name. It’s Bulma, Bul-ma.”

“I only bother myself with important details... Woman.”

“I wouldn’t want you to strain yourself... Bastard.”

“With your attention to accuracy I’m not surprised that the Gravity Room is continually breaking.”

“When you abuse something you can’t expect it to keep working for you.”

Vegeta was about to reply when Bulma’s attention shifted to something behind him. Her mouth fell open then her eyes darkened with fury. “That jerk!” she muttered under her breath and stomped past Vegeta.

Vegeta’s smirk vanished. Bulma wasn’t supposed to walk away from him, she was his- Vegeta hesitated -his entertainment. He turned around and saw Bulma storming over to Yamcha. The scarred fighter was smiling, leaning in close to talk to some blonde girl. Vegeta turned his death glare on Yamcha.

Yamcha glanced up. He returned Vegeta’s glare then noticed Bulma, his expression turned frustrated then angry.

“I’m sorry. I enjoyed talking with you,” Yamcha said quietly then got up and walked into the kitchen. Bulma followed him.

Vegeta watched them leave with a feeling of irritated discontent. Then he finished filling his plate and headed back toward his rooms.

One of the women at the party intercepted him. “How do you get your hair to stand up like that?” she asked.

Vegeta sneered at her. Her smell, her smile, her voice, they all offended him. Her very presence in his space was an affront. Vegeta’s lips curled back slightly. The woman’s sense of self-preservation kicked in with a vengeance and she trip over her own feet in her hurry to get away from him.

Vegeta made his exit from the party.

 

* * *

 

Capsule Corp’s kitchen was a large, bright airy room. Despite the numerous cutting edge appliances it still managed to have a homey air, most of the time. With Yamcha and Bulma glaring at each other across the breakfast bar the air crackled with tension.

“My boyfriend, at my party picking up other girls. That’s real classy Yamcha!” Bulma snapped.

“Get grip Bulma. I was just talking to her!” Yamcha exclaimed.  
  
“Oh yeah, I saw you ‘just talking’. You get a good look at her cleavage leaning into her like that?” Bulma accused.

“You know, I think you liked me better back when I stuck out like a sore thumb at these things. You liked it back when I was your little project that you could show off to your friends!” Yamcha sensed a spike in Vegeta’s ki and his expression darkened. “Or am I just not dangerous enough for you these days?”

“Oh no, don’t you dare try to make this about me!” Bulma warned. “I’m not the one who was flirting out there!”

“The hell you weren’t!”

“Vegeta? Get real.”

“Funny how his is the first name you thought of,” Yamcha spat.

“Are you out of your mind?” Bulma demanded.

“I’m not the one who invited a mass murderer into my home.”

“What was I supposed to do? Leave him wandering around on his own? Wait until he figured out he was trapped on Earth with no money or any clue of how to get stuff without attacking someone?”

“Placating him might have made sense before Goku got back, but what’s your excuse now?” Yamcha spat. “I think you like having that monster around!”

“If you haven’t notice Goku isn’t about to kick Vegeta off the planet, no matter how much you dislike him,” Bulma sniffed. “Vegeta’s the only other surviving member of Goku’s species, he wants Vegeta to have a chance to turn over a new leaf.”

“That’s Goku. He’s a great guy, but he’d give the Devil a second chance,” Yamcha said. “I thought you had some common sense. Vegeta is not going to change, he’s just a monster.”

“Goku did give the Devil a second chance,” Bulma replied. “Or have you forgotten that we used to call Piccolo the Great Demon King?”

“That’s different!” Yamcha exclaimed. “Piccolo was reborn, or whatever Namekians call it. Vegeta was just resurrected, he’s the same guy who killed me! And I don’t want my girlfriend playing hostess for my murderer!”

“Vegeta didn’t kill you. It was one of those Cultivar things,” Bulma corrected.

“Same fucking difference,” Yamcha spat. “Now he’s living with you. You build him that Gravity Room so he can get even stronger. You’re at his beck and call-“

“Okay, I get what this is about. You’re feeling insecure, over Vegeta of all people! I don’t even like him. So you decided to cheat on me to make me jealous-“

“Ever since I got comfortable enough with people to talk with other girls you’ve been accusing me of cheating!” Yamcha shouted. “You know, I ought to really do it, just so you’d know the difference!”

“Why shouldn’t I? Ever since you started getting popular you’ve been checking around to see if you could do better than me!” Bulma retorted. “Well trust me, jackass, I might have been the first girl to give you the time of day, but I’m still the best you’re ever going to find.”

“Who’s calling who insecure?” Yamcha asked.

“You’d be dead in the desert by now and no one would even care if not for me,” Bulma hissed through her teeth then spun on her heel and stalked upstairs.

Yamcha went back to the party, by the time he left he had three girls’ numbers in his pocket. When he got back to his apartment he didn’t throw them out.


	3. Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma's attention is the prize.

The next morning Yamcha found himself pacing restlessly around his apartment. The apartment was a small but upscale place. It was modest domicile for a professional baseball player who’d led his team to victory every year that he’d played, but then Yamcha generally lived at his girlfriend’s mansion. The apartment was his place for a night with his teammates and a place to crash when Bulma kicked him out. The walls were decorated with mementos from Yamcha’s athletic career, everything from a framed copy of the bracket from a Martial Arts competition he’d won that first year after Bulma brought him back to civilization to a championship pennant from his baseball team’s last season. A carefully preserved article about the boy from the sticks with the untouchable fastball held a prominent place in the collection. A prom picture of Yamcha looking uncomfortable in a tux and Bulma looking like she’d been born to wear her satin, silver evening gown sat on an end table. The floors were hardwood and the furniture was covered in black leather with glass and metal end-tables; the decorator told him it was a modern, masculine style.   
  
Yamcha couldn’t stop thinking about the fight at Bulma’s party. There had been a lot of fights and splits between himself and Bulma over the years but they always ended up back together. Puar, Yamcha’s cat and best friend since forever had greeted him with a small frown but without surprised when Yamcha had told her that they were going back to the apartment instead of his room at Capsule Corp after the party. Bulma always blamed Yamcha for their problems, and Yamcha could admit that maybe he got a little too much satisfaction out of having a pretty girl, any pretty girl, flirt with him. So when Bulma blew her stack over his little transgressions he didn’t fight back. It was easier to just let her have her tantrum and go back to his place until she cooled off again. She never found anyone new and he never really cheated on her, at least not by his definition of cheating.

But this was different. Better than anyone, Yamcha knew that Bulma had a thing for bad boys. What scared him was that she couldn’t seem to see the difference between someone like him who was a little bit wild and someone like Vegeta who was a murdering scumbag. It hurt, it physically hurt to see her being nice to the bastard who killed him. She was supposed to love him, how could she smile at the man who caused his death? How could she do that to him?

Okay, so he’d done a little window shopping over the years, what did she expect? Bulma was the first girl he’d ever talked to; how was he supposed to know that she was The One without getting to know a few others along the way. He’d never taken anyone else home with him. And when Goku had started talking about Bulma having a baby Yamcha had really thought about it, about settling down and marrying her. He could see himself married to Bulma but she didn’t seem to want to talk about it.

She’d rather talk about Vegeta. The improvements he was always demanding because he kept exceeding the limits of everything Bulma built for him. How he nearly killed himself in his insane training regimes this time. How much he ate, whether he’d come to dinner or if she’d run into him emptying the refrigerator at midnight. What an arrogant bastard he was, and how he didn’t appreciate Bulma’s genius and beauty nearly as much as he should. Sure most of it was phrased as complaints, but Yamcha knew who Bulma was thinking about these days and it wasn’t him.

Now he was kicked out Capsule Corps and Vegeta was sleeping just down the hall from Bulma. Normally he would just wait for Bulma to cool off and welcome him back, but this time that wasn’t going to cut it. Yamcha sighed, this time he was just going to have to suck it up and beg for her forgiveness.

After more pacing Yamcha decided that the best way would be to wait until Bulma was away from Capsule Corp, he didn’t want to do his groveling in front of Vegeta. The Sayian Prince would get altogether too much enjoyment out of seeing that. So that afternoon saw Yamcha covertly observing Capsule Corp, he waited until nightfall but Bulma never made an appearance. The next day passed with a similar lack of results. Yamcha was starting to feel like a stalker when Bulma finally left around mid-morning on the second day after the disastrous party.

Yamcha flew high above the hovercar lanes as he followed Bulma. He’d found that people in general tended to react badly to seeing a person flying without mechanical assistance and he didn’t want to cause a traffic incident. He frowned when he saw Bulma land at a grocery store, he knew who she was shopping for.

He met her as she exited her car. “Bulma, could we talk?” Yamcha asked.

“I don’t see that we’ve got anything to talk about,” Bulma said.

“I’m sorry about what happened at the party,” Yamcha said. He grinned in a self-deprecating way. “You know I’m still shocked when girls actually want to talk to me. I got a little carried away, but it was never going to go anywhere. I swear. You’re the only one for me.”

Bulma stopped and gave Yamcha her full attention.

Yamcha took a deep breath “Bulma, we’ve been together on and off since we were sixteen. We’re not kids anymore, I don’t want to play around anymore. I want to deal with the things that keep tearing us apart. I want us to be on, forever.”

 

* * *

 

The Gravity Room had started it’s life as the Earth’s first space ship capable of extra-solar travel. Bulma and her father had designed the gravity generator to make space travel more comfortable. Since then the ship had been stripped down to a barren steel chamber. It had been reinforced until it resembled a bomb shelter, only the Gravity Room was designed to withstand explosions from the inside. The gravity generator, which had been created to provide a comfortable atmosphere for human life had been amped up until it had the capacity to reduce the average human body into paste.

Goku had trained at 100 times Earth’s gravity before managing to become a Super Saiyan for the first time. Vegeta was currently forging his way through a grueling calisthenics routine in 200 G’s. And still Vegeta didn’t feel he was any closer to becoming a Super Saiyan than he’d been the day he fought Frieza on Namek, the day he’d been reduced to begging Goku to revenge the Saiyan people where Vegeta had failed.

The Saiyan prince flipped into a handstand. His sculpted body gleamed with sweat as he balanced on his fingertips. Slowly, deliberately Vegeta began a series of standing pushups. Simultaneously Vegeta worked on refining his ki-sense. Even when Vegeta didn’t want to he could feel Kakarrot, his brat and the Namek training. Vegeta could sense that Kakarrot was holding back, handicapping himself so he could improve while fighting against inferior opponents. Vegeta could sense the brat’s potential and that the Namek wasn’t that far below the prince’s present level. They were a constant reminder of how far he had to go before he could claim the status that was his birthright as the Prince of all Saiyans. Sensing them wasn’t an exercise, it was like an itch that couldn’t be scratched.

What he needed was a challenge to his ability to detect ki. Vegeta stretched out his senses and realized that Bulma was missing from the compound. That was the sort of challenge he was looking for. Picking her weak, inconsequential ki out of the hordes of weak, inconsequential humans infesting the planet was like looking for a grain of gold in a pile of sand. She blended in, no larger than the background noise but subtly brighter. There was a unique flavor to her ki that set her apart but it was nothing obvious, nothing he could pin down or quantify, it was just Bulma. It was - there! Vegeta allowed himself a small measure of satisfaction at his success but it was quickly soured when he recognized another ki near Bulma’s: the scared idiot, Yamcha.

Vegeta scowled darkly. He had no interest in the foolish courtship rituals they engaged in but he disliked the drain on Bulma’s attention and time that Yamcha represented. Every day he found that he liked it less. Bulma was supposed to pay attention to him!  
  
Vegeta’s dislike reached new heights several days later when Yamcha decided to start training at Capsule Corps so that he could spend more time with Bulma.

“Gimme a kiss!” A filthy, sweat-dripping Yamcha exclaimed to Bulma just as Vegeta left the Gravity Room after his morning workout.

“Gross!” Bulma laughed and shoved her boyfriend into the pool. “Go take a bath before you try getting fresh with me Mister!”

As Vegeta watched them play he suddenly found himself remembering a day more than two decades earlier. Vegeta and the other two surviving Saiyans in Frieza’s army had been sent to purge an ice planet. Vegeta remembered a teenaged Radditz breaking a hole through a foot thick sheet of ice. He had splashed around in the freezing water in an effort to get a planet’s worth of blood and gore off him before he climbed into his pod. There had been a little refugee girl back at Frieza’s base who had caught Radditz’s favor and Radditz had thought it was worth risking hypothermia to look, and smell, good for her.  
  
While Radditz shivered and scrubbed Nappa had stood on the bank and heckled the younger Saiyan mercilessly. When Nappa called the girl a whore Radditz had flung himself out of the water and attacked the hulking elite fighter. Nappa had responded with a laugh. Then he tossed the boy back into the water and held him under until Radditz was half drowned and three quarters frozen. Vegeta had been twelve at the time. He’d been vaguely mystified as to what all the fuss was about but he covered up his confusion by acting as if the whole thing were beneath his notice.

Vegeta glanced away from Bulma and Yamcha with a bleak expression in his eyes as he remembered how the story had ended. Radditz had been successful in his courting. Several years after that day in the snow Radditz got his refugee girl pregnant. When Frieza learned of the pregnancy he gave Vegeta and his team a choice: dispose of the girl or there would be three fewer Saiyans left in the Universe. In the end Nappa had to restrain Radditz while Vegeta broke the girl’s neck. Vegeta gave her a quick and painless death for the crime of carrying a child with Saiyan blood.

Irritable Vegeta forced the memory back in the recesses of his mind where it belonged. The incident meant nothing to him; it never had, but for some reason ever since he’d pled with Kakarrot to avenge their people he’d found himself reminded of things. Stupid meaningless incidents that had been forgotten as soon as they occurred. Things that had never had any importance to him but that kept floating up to the surface of his mind to annoy him. Somehow he knew it was all Kakarrot’s fault.

 

* * *

 

At lunch that day Bulma was surprised to find herself wanting to smile when Vegeta joined her family and Yamcha at the table. “Did you run out of supplies or just decide to grace us with your presence?” she asked him sarcastically. She couldn’t believe it. She was practically begging Vegeta to insult her. She couldn’t believe how much she was looking forward to fighting with him.

Bulma had asked her father to take over repairs on the Gravity Room for a few days while she and Yamcha worked on their relationship. It was the first time Yamcha had ever really apologized for straying. Normally he just stayed away until he thought she’d forgotten about his latest transgression. Then he’d act like nothing had happened. Bulma didn’t know why she let him get away with it so many times but getting an actually apology was a nice change and one she wanted to encourage.

Only Bulma had never expect to find herself missing Vegeta’s caustic personality so much. She had a mental score card in her head, an on-going tally of how many times she or Vegeta came out on top in one of their arguments. Her day just didn’t seem complete anymore if she didn’t add any marks to that score card. Bulma found herself waiting eagerly for Vegeta’s response to her barb.

And so Bulma was disappointed when Vegeta only grunted and took his normal seat. Without pausing to consider her motives Bulma studied Vegeta more closely. There was a flat emptiness in his eyes that bothered her.

“The new generator came in,” Bulma commented. “Once I get it installed the Gravity Room should be able to reach 500 G’s. Of course the structural integrity of the room can only withstand half that many.” She shrugged. “Still that’s another 50 G’s to keep you busy until I can reinforce the room again.”

Vegeta glanced up from the bowls Mrs. Briefs was happily placing within arm’s reach for him. “How long will it take for you to install it?” he demanded.

Bulma considered it, “If I started this afternoon it could be ready by tomorrow.”

“But we had a date,” Yamcha protested.

Bulma blushed as she realized she’d completely forgotten about that.

“So you’ve admitted you’ll never be strong enough to make a difference against the Androids?” Vegeta remarked snidely.

Yamcha sputtered inarticulately.

“You spend so much time playing with the woman; I assumed you had realized the truth and were making the most of the time you have left,” Vegeta continued.

“Look you, I’m part of the team. You’re only alive because of an accident, it’s not like anyone wanted you above the ground,” Yamcha spat.

“Part of the team?” Vegeta asked mockingly. “Which part would that be? The dead weight?”

Yamcha stood up so abruptly that he knocked his chair over backwards. “I don’t have to sit here and take this,” he declared and then stormed out.

“Well, there goes my date,” Bulma remarked.

Vegeta smirked and dug into his food.

“You know, I could have installed the generator.” Dr. Briefs remarked.

Vegeta shrugged. Getting what he wanted was good, but somehow getting what he wanted from the woman was _better_.


	4. Needs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do you fight?

It had been almost two years since the day Bulma invited Vegeta to stay at Capsule Corps. During that time Bulma and her family had repeatedly told Vegeta to make the guest room he’d been staying in his own. So he removed every decoration from the room. After he was done ‘his’ room had almost as much personality as hospital room. The room’s walls were bare and the curtains had been removed from the windows. The top of the dresser was empty except for a neatly folded stack of clothes which Vegeta had laid out for the next day. His shoes were lined up between the dresser and the neatly made up bed. The one piece of furniture Vegeta had added to the room was the armchair which he was sleeping in.

Even asleep Vegeta’s features were drawn into a scowl and his arms were crossed over his chest. His bare feet were braced lightly against the floor. As Vegeta shifted from sleep to wakefulness the first thing he became aware of was the feeling of open space around his body when he expected to sense the confines of his pod. The disconnect drove every remnant of sleep from his brain and he leapt to his feet cursing himself for falling into a deep sleep on one of Frieza’s planets.

He glanced around the room, noted walls of stucco rather than steel and windows rather than view ports and then he remembered: Frieza was dead. This time he was really dead. With his own eyes Vegeta had seen Frieza chopped to pieces by the strange future boy who claimed to be Saiyan.

Vegeta glared at the armchair he’d been sleeping in. Despite the length of time since he had come to this planet he still had to mimic the sleeping arrangements in his pod before his subconscious would allow him true, restful sleep. It had been almost two years since he’d heard of Frieza’s defeat and he was still trying to adjust.

He wasn’t Frieza’s pet Saiyan anymore. He didn’t have to be constantly biding his time, swallowing his hate and waiting for the day when he’d be strong enough to challenge Frieza without being slapped down like an unruly pup or summarily killed for his impertinence. Vegeta couldn’t remember a time when his life hadn’t centered around someday being stronger than Frieza. He couldn’t remember ever envisioning a future beyond defeating Frieza. Vegeta hated it to the bottom of his soul, but without the need to become stronger than Kakarrot replacing his goal of becoming stronger than Frieza he would have been utterly lost. And even when the only thing that had changed was the identity of the one against whom he measured his strength, everything had changed.

Kakarrot was the one who was stronger than him now, not Frieza. It was Kakarrot who was capable of killing him if he challenged the other man’s superiority too soon. Frieza had made the rules for as long as Vegeta could remember. Even though Vegeta had always planned rebellion he’d always followed those rules while biding his time. Now Frieza was gone, his rules were gone. Now there was just Kakarrot; stupid, friendly, good-hearted, honorable, trusting Kakarrot. Which meant the rules had been turned upside down: Lashing out at random bystanders would cause him more problems than going after his rival. He could go out and find Kakarrot, do his damnedest to kill the other Saiyan and if he failed the idiot would most likely write it off as a friendly spar. But if he hurt one of Kakarrot’s pitiful humans or blew up a random city he might actually make the other Saiyan mad. Vegeta wasn’t ready to pit himself against a Super Saiyan just yet. He was still playing the waiting game, but it was Kakarrot and despite himself Vegeta was starting to trust that he wouldn’t be humiliated or harmed because even though Kakarrot was physically capable of picking up where Frieza had left off he wasn’t mentally capable of it. He would never even consider hurting Vegeta the way Frieza had.

It was odd, not feeling like he was under the blade of a guillotine every second. Vegeta just couldn’t seem to get used to the idea that there was no one capable of hurting him who had any interest in doing so... Except for the Androids, there were still enemies out there. It shouldn’t have been a reassuring thought, but somehow it was.

* * *

  
That afternoon the Gravity Room broke. Vegeta toggled the intercom. “Woman, come fix this thing.”

Twenty minutes later the door slid open. Bulma leaned nonchalantly against the frame. “Ask nicely,” she demanded in a teasing voice.

Vegeta crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her silently. Bulma met his gaze squarely. After several minutes Vegeta prowled across the room. Nature hadn’t designed him for looming over people, in fact he was close enough that he had to cant his head back ever so slightly to maintain eye contact with Bulma, but in Vegeta’s case it didn’t matter. His presence was so strong he could seem like he was looming over people twice his height, without resorting to flying.

“Fix the damned room, woman,” Vegeta demanded in a low, tightly controlled voice.

Bulma never flinched. The look Vegeta caught in her eyes a moment before she blushed and looked away wasn’t fear. “You owe me,” she muttered.

Vegeta’s eyes narrowed.

Bulma flipped her open a panel and buried her head in the gravity room’s circuitry. “What did you do to it this time?” she asked.

Vegeta grimaced. He knew perfectly well that she could diagnose the problem more quickly if he told her what had happened but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it. “Fell against the control panel,” he admitted reluctantly.

“At how many G’s,” Bulma asked.

“Three hundred,” Vegeta replied.

“Damnit Vegeta, I told you not to go over two-fifty until I’d upgraded it,” Bulma complained. “It’s not designed for this sort of punishment yet.”

“Your ‘shipping’ takes too long,” Vegeta replied unrepentantly.

“I’ll fix it for you this time but if you break it again by running it at too high of a setting before the new parts come you’re just going to have to do without,” Bulma threatened.

Vegeta watched her repair the room in silence for a time. He watched her hands dance through the innards of the machine with a sure grace. Then he asked. “Why do you do this?”

“Have you ever heard the one about not looking a gift horse in the mouth?” Bulma asked. She stopped working to turn to face him.

“No,” Vegeta replied shortly.

“I suppose you wouldn’t have,” Bulma said with a grimace. “It means you’re getting something for nothing so don’t scrutinize it too closely.”

“In my experience you either pay up front or after the fact. ‘Gift horses’ are a myth,” Vegeta replied. “As you said; I owe you, I want to know what you expect in return.”

“Forget what I said,” Bulma ordered.

“No.” The look in Vegeta’s eyes told Bulma that getting him to drop the subject would be harder than getting Vegeta to call Goku by his human name.

Bulma sighed. “You’re going to fight the Androids aren’t you?” she asked.

“That brat thinks I need Kakarrot to save me,” Vegeta practically snarled.

Bulma nodded at his confirmation. “You’re going to fight to prove that you’re stronger; that they can’t kill you,” she said. “That kid from the future told us the Androids would kill all of the fighters and basically ruin the world. They’re going to kill my friends and wreck my planet. You think I’m just going to sit back and let that happen?”

“You can’t even measure up to the scarred moron,” Vegeta remarked.

“You think I don’t know that?” Bulma replied. “I’m no idiot; I know I can’t fight them like you guys. What I can do is build things, things like this room. You train here, it makes you stronger. You’ll take that strength and use it against the Androids; strength that you gain from this room; from me. That’s how I fight.”

Vegeta stared at her, disturbed by what she’d said. “You can’t take back that strength after the Androids are destroyed,” he pointed out. That was as close as he wanted to come to reminding her that he still intended to defeat her friend Kakarrot once the Androids were gone. “Why me? Why not Kakarrot? Or your idiot boyfriend?” he added as an after thought.

For a moment Bulma looked painfully vulnerable. “Because you’re the only one who thought to ask okay?” she said quietly then buried herself in her repairs.

 

* * *

Several dozen feet over the ocean Yamcha and Kuririn traded blows at a speed that all but a handful of humans would have found impossible to see let alone duplicate. Kuririn twisted to the side and Yamcha’s punch found only air. The bald ex-monk took advantage of Yamcha’s momentary state of being overbalanced and tossed the scarred fighter into the sea.

When Yamcha broke the surface sputtering indignantly Kuririn was waiting for him. The smaller man floated just above the surface of the ocean, a spinning disc of ki resting atop his hand and a grin on his face. Yamcha held up his hands in surrender. Kuririn let the Distructo Disc dissipate into nothingness. Then he flew back up and waited for Yamcha to get ready for the next round.

“Enough,” Yamcha called as he pulled himself out of the water.

“Don’t tell me you can’t take any more?” Kuririn called gleefully.

Yamcha made a face and landed on a tiny island that had somehow escaped devastation. He made an effort to shake the water out of his hair then glared up at the smaller fighter.

Kuririn sighed and decided not to gloat; at least not right off the bat. He plopped down beside Yamcha. “Are you and Bulma off again?” he asked.

“How should I know,” Yamcha said bitterly. “Her lord and master won’t let me talk to her. The last time I went over he told me she was busy repairing something for him and he wouldn’t let me ‘bother her with any trivial business’ of mine.”

“And you just-“

“What was I supposed to do?” Yamcha demanded angrily. “We’re talking about Vegeta here! You know, the guy who put Son Goku in the hospital for months! What, exactly, can I do when he orders me to stay away from my girlfriend? My girlfriend, who invited him to come live with her!”

“Capsule Corp is a big place,” Kuririn interjected. “It’s not like he and Bulma are sharing a room.”

“You sure about that?” Yamcha snorted.

“Oh come on there is no way Bulma would-“

“Sleep with the guy who got her boyfriend killed?” Yamcha interrupted. “She sure was quick enough to let him off on a technicality when it came to who killed me, Piccolo, Tien and Chaozu three years back.”

Kuririn didn’t know what to say to that.

“How do you do it?” Yamcha asked a short while later.

Kuririn shot him a clueless look.

“You’ve died twice now,” Yamcha explained. “I used to love fighting and training to fight. Now? Now it’s different. If those androids weren’t going to kill everyone I don’t think I could make myself train anymore. Hell, I was better than those damn monsters of Vegeta’s and they still killed me.”

Kuririn shrugged uncomfortably. “I’m not crazy about the possibility of dying again, either,” he admitted. “But even though I wasn’t strong enough to go head to head with Vegeta or Frieza, just being in the right place at the right time I managed to help Goku. I don’t think I could live with myself if I sat back and said ‘Let Goku and Gohan take care of it, they’re stronger.’ Even as strong as they are no win is guaranteed. If I wasn’t there and if anything did happened to them, I’d spend the rest of my life wondering if I could have done something to prevent it if I’d tried.”

Yamcha looked away. “I can’t stop thinking about dying. Even sparring with you I keep thinking about it and I know you’re not going to kill me. Talking to Vegeta is enough to make me feel like losing my lunch. That damned bastard knows he could kill me and I think the only reason he hasn’t is because he loves rubbing my face in the fact.”

Kuririn sighed. If they’d been talking about anyone else he probably would have tried to convince Yamcha that he was exaggerating the situation but after Kuririn’s experiences with Vegeta he had no difficulty envisioning the Saiyan Prince lording his power over someone else. What did you say to a guy who had an insanely powerful, homicidal nutcase living with his girlfriend? Especially when said insanely powerful, homicidal nutcase didn’t have the excuse of family bonds for where he was staying.

How did Kuririn help Yamcha come to terms with learning about his own mortality the hard way when Kuririn himself dealt with it by not dwelling on it?


	5. Breaking Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do you want him or not?"

Yamcha walked up to the Capsule Corporation compound with a fixed smile on his face and a pair of concert tickets in his hand. He wasn’t going to give Bulma up without a fight.

Bulma’s mother, Bunny, was in the front yard playing with several of the stray cats, dogs and dinosaurs the Briefs had adopted. She smiled in her bright, bubble-headed way and buzzed Yamcha in. He waved to her, “Hey Mrs. Briefs. Is Bulma around?”

“She was discussing some new thingy with her father, some sort of energy absorbing polymer coating for the GR so Vegeta would quit breaking it so often. But I’m sure she’ll make time for you,” Bunny giggled.

“I wish I were sure,” Yamcha muttered. “I take it Vegeta’s training?”

“Oh you know him. He’s always training.”

‘Except when he’s stealing my girlfriend,’ Yamcha thought.

‘Think positive thoughts,’ Yamcha told himself as he made his way toward Bulma and Dr. Brief’s private labs. ‘This time you’ll be in, out and gone before that homicidal creep realizes it.’

He knocked on the door then opened it and leaned in. “Bulma, wanna go to a concert with me?” he asked hopefully. “It’s been ages since we’ve gone out.” He did his best to look pathetically neglected.

Bulma looked a little embarrassed. “I guess I have been sort of busy lately,” she said. “You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to keep up with his Royal Highness, the Saiyan Wrecking-ball. He never listens when I tell him the limits on my machines. He must think they’re like his body... Did you know near-death experiences are actually good for Saiyans?”

Yamcha’s lips drew back in a silent snarl. Bulma shook her head and continued prattling on about Yamcha’s least favorite subject. “Ya know, I used to worry when he dragged himself out of the Gravity Room looking like roadkill, but he insists that’s the best way for him to build strength. I’ve been thinking about trying to build one of those Regeneration Tanks Frieza had, that way we won’t be so dependent on Senzu beans. Of course if Vegeta had access to one of those things I don’t think he’d have any restraint at all in the amount of damage he inflicts on himself. He’d break the GR even more than he does now, he’d need even less recovery time and I’d never get a moment’s peace,” Bulma laughed.

Yamcha felt his temper soaring dangerously.

As if he’d been summoned Vegeta stepped into the room. He ignored Yamcha entirely. “Woman, your shoddy repairs broke again,” he complained.

Bulma glowered at him. “There’s nothing wrong with my repairs. I told you nothing over three hundred G’s until I figure out how to upgrade the thing again and, like normal, it bounced right off your thick skull didn’t it?” She marched up to the Saiyan Prince and poked him in the chest. “Didn’t it? You went and upped the gravity, again, then you ended up falling against one of the generators, again, and your unnaturally heavy self broke through the protective cover, again! Didn’t it!”

“All right, your repairs aren’t shoddy Woman. It’s these inferior human materials,” Vegeta said with a shrug. “Everything native to this mudball is weak and soft.” This time Vegeta’s gaze shifted to Yamcha long enough for a smirk.

“We were just leaving weren’t we Bulma?” Yamcha said. “His repairs can wait.”

Bulma felt a spark of irritation at Yamcha’s assumption that she was going to say yes followed by a mountain of guilt because the egotistical alien standing in front of her with his arms stubbornly crossed over his chest routinely assumed she was on call any time day or night to resolve his problems and her irritation had been solely directed at Yamcha.

It had been a long time since she and Yamcha had gone out. He had a right to feel neglected, Bulma realized. “The GR’s just going to have to wait this time Vegeta,” Bulma said. “I’m sorry.”

Vegeta gritted his teeth. Snarling and throwing a fit might be enjoyable but he wouldn’t win anything that way.

Bulma stepped around Vegeta to go to Yamcha. He shot Vegeta a triumphant look and Vegeta made up his mind, he wasn’t going to lose. Vegeta reached out and put a hand on Bulma’s shoulder. “I’m on the verge of breaking through,” he said softly.

Bulma’s head whipped around. She knew what it was like to be interrupted when you could almost touch your goal. She knew becoming a Super Saiyan meant everything to Vegeta. She knew that when the Androids came having another Super Saiyan on their side might mean everything to the earth.

“This probably won’t take long Yamcha. I’ve repaired every system in that room so many times I could do it in my sleep. Why don’t you go ahead and I’ll catch up when I’m done,” Bulma suggested.

Vegeta’s hand settled lightly in the small of her back. The gesture shocked Bulma so badly that she forgot to ask Yamcha for her ticket or even where he’d intended to take her.

As Vegeta guided Bulma out of the room he glanced over his shoulder to smirk at Yamcha.

Yamcha stomped out of the compound several minutes later with the tickets still in his hand. He went home and dug through the litter of papers on his counter until he found the phone numbers he’d acquired at Bulma’s last party.   
  
“Hi, Misty? It’s Yamcha, It’s been a while but I was wondering...”

* * *

 

Bulma sat in the center of her bed, her knuckles slowly turning white from the death grip she had on the phone as she listened to one of her friends tell her about seeing Yamcha out on the town with a girl who certainly hadn’t been Bulma.

“I don’t care what he does. I dumped him ages ago,” Bulma lied. To her herself, she swore she would dump his cheating ass just as soon as she got the chance.

The intercom clicked on. “Woman, fix your damned machine!”

‘It’s always my machine when it’s broken,’ Bulma thought with a roll of her eyes. “Look, I’ve got a call on another line. I’ll talk to you later,” she said then hung up and hit the intercom switch. “I’m coming Vegeta, keep your pants on.”

“Why would I take them off?” Vegeta asked sounding both puzzled and irritated.

In spite of everything with Yamcha, Bulma’s mouth quirked up in a grin. “Earther expression,” she explained.

“Your expressions are moronic,” Vegeta stated.

Bulma decided she was just as happy not to explain the logic behind that particular expression, she didn’t really want him thinking that she was thinking about sex in connection with him. Bulma paused, or maybe she did. It would serve Yamcha right; he’d done it to her over and over again. It would serve him right to get some of his own medicine.

With that in mind Bulma eyed her closet thoughtfully.

 

* * *

 

Vegeta stared at Bulma. The woman’s scent had changed. Her ki was in turmoil. It had taken her an usually long time to respond to his summons even though she hadn’t protested about not being his servant when he called her. She hadn’t even raised a fuss about how he worded his demands.

Bulma’s clothing never seemed to serve any practical purpose in Vegeta’s mind, still the flimsy top she wore wasn’t even opaque and the only thing the short, flaring skirt seemed designed to do was draw attention to her tiny waist and long legs. Her movement were slightly exaggerated, the sway of her hips, the way she held herself; they drew his attention to her body as well.

Vegeta watched her intently, he wondered what she was up to. This wasn’t her normal means of preparing for one of their verbal spars.

“Vegeta, I could use an extra hand here,” Bulma requested. Her voice was a shade lower than normal.

“I’m not a tech woman,” Vegeta objected.

“Right, all you’re good at is breaking things,” Bulma snapped then blushed. “I’m not expecting you to fix it yourself. Just hold this in place while I solder it okay? The repairs will go faster.”

Vegeta shrugged and complied. He wanted to know why she suddenly needed his help. Bulma caught his wrist and guided his hand to hold the component in place. Then she slid under his arm and started working. Vegeta blinked in surprise at her proximity. The woman was practically in his lap. Every time she moved she brushed up against him.

Vegeta considered her again. The foul smelling chemical she had used to make her aqua-blue hair curl had worn off leaving her hair straight and slightly longer than when he’d first met her. The floral smell that had replaced the chemical one was light enough not to be offensive. Her body was warm against his side. She managed to be trim without acquiring any appreciable muscle mass.

It crossed Vegeta’s mind that he didn’t remember what females of his species were supposed to look like. Even before Vegeta-sai had been destroyed he’d spent all his time in Frieza’s court. Nappa and Radditz were the only Saiyans he’d ever spent any time around since he’d been a small child. And after Radditz’s mate was killed they didn’t talk about women, ever. He’d made a point of never getting to know anyone he had sex with, that way it wasn’t worth the bother for Frieza to order him to kill them. The thought of killing someone he’d slept with left a bad taste in his mouth. As long as Frieza had been more powerful than him, it had been better that his lovers remained nameless and quickly forgotten.   
  
Bulma’s stomach clenched in a mix of disappointment and acute embarrassment. Here she was practically throwing herself at Vegeta and he wasn’t responding at all. Hell she’d brushed her breasts against his arm several times and he hadn’t even reacted!

It suddenly occurred to Bulma that she might be making a complete and total fool of herself. Vegeta was disdainful of everything on the planet and even though he looked human; as long as you didn’t count that he used to have a tail; he wasn’t human. Vegeta was an alien and what did Bulma know? Maybe Saiyans had some weird pheromones or something to get them going. It would explain some things: Goku had certainly been way more clueless than any eighteen year-old-male should be when Chichi showed up to demand he make good on his childhood promise to marry her. Obviously he’d figured out the sex thing at some point but for all Bulma know Chichi might have simply told him that children were part of his promise.

Bulma honestly wasn’t sure whether or not a Saiyan could feel attracted to a human. Sure the two species looked almost identical and human males got turned on by visual cues but Saiyan senses weren’t as strongly skewed toward the optical. Or maybe it was all in the tail.

Bulma’s hands were quick and sure as she made the repairs displaying her confidence and skill. Vegeta decided he liked watching them. He remembered her saying that this was how she fought and watching her he could see that.

“At least you’re just blowing fuses and smashing connections these days. It’s a lot easier to fix than burnt out centrifugal motors,” she commented.

“You said the motors can withstand five hundred times Earth’s weak gravity. In another two months I should be able to as well,” Vegeta replied. “Will you upgrades be able to keep up?”

“You’re lucky I’m a genius,” Bulma remarked. “Keeping up with your rate of progress would be a full time career for most engineering teams.”

“I am Vegeta, Prince of all Saiyans. If you were insufficient I would have simply found someone better.”

“You’re slipping Vegeta,” Bulma said. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”

Vegeta’s mouth quirked upwards; he really did enjoy trading barbs with this woman. And her proximity wasn’t displeasing either. He shifted slightly so that she was leaning fully against his chest. Her hair felt silky against his cheek. “I’ll be more careful in the future. I wouldn’t want your head to get swollen.”

“More room for your ego that way?” Bulma asked. Then she said. “There, all done,” but she made no effort to move away from Vegeta.

He waited to see what her next move would be now that her excuse was gone.

After a moment Bulma flushed and pulled away. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” she muttered to herself and hurried toward the door.

Vegeta caught her arm and stopped her. He stepped close enough to her that Bulma could feel the radiate heat of his body against her back. “You were thinking about seducing me.” His voice was a rumbling purr in her ear.

Bulma shivered. She heard what Vegeta had left unspoken: ‘Now would not be a good time for you to have second thoughts.’ And for the first time since inviting him into her home Bulma truly felt afraid of Vegeta.

Bulma’s heart raced wildly as she pulled away from him. She knew it was completely up to Vegeta as to whether or not he released her. Her strength meant nothing to him. Nothing she could possibly do had the slightest chance of hurting him.

Vegeta allowed her arm to slip out of his hand with only a hint of resistance.

As Bulma walked to the door her heart calmed. She hesitated with her hand on the latch. She’d been afraid she was making a fool of herself, afraid he wasn’t interested. Now she knew that he was. When she planned this out she wanted him. Had she changed her mind? If she walked away now she knew Vegeta well enough to know she’d never have the option of changing her mind a second time.

Did she want him? If the answer was ‘yes’ she needed to go through with what she started. If the answer was ‘no’ Vegeta was letting her walk away.

She’d started this to get back at Yamcha but suddenly it was so much more. She’d dumped Yamcha a dozen times for cheating on her but she’d never thrown herself at another guy to get back at him before. It had never even crossed her mind before. Vegeta had never been an option before.

Vegeta’s pride was on the line now. He let her know he wanted her. He wasn’t the type to take rejection well, but he was letting her walk away. And that, Bulma realized, made all the difference. He wanted her but he’d let her go if that’s what she chose. She’d never have this choice again. He’d never admit to wanting her again if she decided she didn’t want him now. She’d started this game. Did she want him or not?

Bulma turned the lock on the door. “Wouldn’t want someone walking in on us,” she said and turned back to face Vegeta.

She saw fading traces of anger in his eyes then a different sort of heat lit them on fire. When their eyes met she felt like a mouse hypnotized by a snake. He stalked toward her with the easy grace of a born predator.

Vegeta’s hand lingered against Bulma’s cheek for just a moment, barely long enough for her to turn into his touch. Then his hand coiled around the base of her skull and he pulled her into a bruising mating of mouths and tongues.


	6. Afterwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

Bulma stared up at Vegeta with a slightly unfocused gaze. She gave him an out of it smile and made an effort to lean up and kiss him but found she didn’t have the energy to lift her head. Vegeta smirked down at her then slid a hand under her back and rolled them over so that she was lying in a boneless sprawl across his chest, there simply wasn’t room on the narrow bunk they’d ended up on to for them to share the bed otherwise. Bulma made an inarticulate sound of gratitude a few moments later her breathing evened out as sleep claimed her.

Vegeta lightly ran his hand down her back and over the swell of her buttocks. He enjoyed the smoothness of her skin and the suppleness of her muscles. He should get back to training but he wouldn’t kick her out of bed quite yet. It would be too much trouble. He grinned to himself. He didn’t think she was capable of stringing two words together, much less walking back to the house under her own power. He would let her sleep for awhile. Besides, the view wasn’t half bad: her legs intertwined with his, the porcelain-perfect skin of her back contrasting with her aqua-blue tresses, her delicate fingers splayed across his stomach. She truly was extraordinarily attractive, not that he’d ever tell her that.

Vegeta wondered what she’d think if she knew that she was the first lover he’d had whom he called ‘woman’ because he knew it annoyed her rather than because he actually didn’t know her name. His eyes widened as he realized that this was also the first time he’d wanted a particular woman rather than just wanting sex. Those were other things he’d never tell her, he’d shamed himself enough when he’d admitted to Kakarrot how much damage Frieza had done to him, the woman didn’t need to know the details.

Vegeta’s hold on Bulma tightened possessively. ‘She was his.’ Vegeta chuckled softly to himself. He’d been thinking of her as being his quite a while now, it was only now that he’d stopped bothering to qualify how she was his. She wasn’t his entertainment or his technician, she was simply his. His subconscious had gotten a jump on the rest of him. That was another difference. He usually didn’t get possessive about things that could be taken from him. He had his strength, his pride and his title and nothing else had mattered. The only way he could lose those things would be for someone to take his life and then it wouldn’t matter much anyway, or at least that had always been what he believed until he’d died at Frieza’s hands.

He supposed other people might have seen Nappa and Radditz as his team but he hadn’t felt much of anything about them. Nappa was an annoying suck-up who trailed around behind him. Radditz -was a walking deadman after the girl- was a third class soldier. He was beneath Vegeta’s notice, even if Vegeta did remember Radditz showing up when he had been ten and he remembered that he’d been excited at the though of having someone close to his age around for once.

Maybe for the first few years after Vegeta-sai was destroyed there had been something between the three survivors. If there had been it had been because of Radditz. Elite fighters like Vegeta or Nappa usually chose to fight on their own as much as possible so they could track their individual accomplishments rather than having to share a group victory but the lower level soldiers tended to need each other and thus formed close-knit units. Radditz had been the lone survivor of his unit only because his pod experienced a malfunction on the way back from their last purging mission which had forced the thirteen-year-old to crash land on the nearest planet instead of returning to Vegeta-sai with his team. Radditz had tried to replace his lost unit with the other two Saiyan survivors without much luck. Still he kept trying until his girl died, after that Radditz hadn’t cared about much of anything except the killing.

Vegeta hadn’t ever gotten possessive about people because it seemed like a stupid thing to do. People were too easy to lose: they died, they broke, they sent you away with bastards like Frieza. But Frieza was gone, Vegeta would be a Super Saiyan soon, maybe he could keep a person if he wanted one.

Vegeta tangled his fingers in Bulma’s hair. He’d let her sleep... just bit longer...

Vegeta hadn’t intended to fall asleep, hadn’t expected to be able to sleep lying down let alone with another person near him. But he had and for once there was no disconnect as he woke. Bulma’s presence permeated all his senses and he woke knowing where and when he was. He woke up feeling well rested instead of confused and threatened for once. He stared at Bulma, how she could possibly ground him in the present when nothing else had?

Still, he’d wasted enough of his training time already.

 

* * *

 

Bulma woke with a start when her bed decided to pick her up and set her on her feet. She whined sleepily and tried to snuggle up against the nearest source of warmth again.

“It’s time for me to train woman. Wake up and get dressed or I’ll put you out on the doorstep stark naked.”

At that point Bulma realized she’d been sleeping sprawled on top of Vegeta in a best compromise to the problem of fitting two bodies on one of the narrow bunks in the living quarters above the gravity room. Bulma was slightly surprised that they hadn’t stripped out the old crew quarters to accommodate even more of the structural reinforcements which had turned a space ship into a training room that was almost capable of withstanding a Saiyan. Then she realized that while her mind was wandering Vegeta was carrying her toward the hatch in preparation for carrying out his threat.

“I’m up! I’m up!” she exclaimed.

Vegeta smirked as he set her down.

As Bulma pulled on her clothes she muttered. “I suppose you think I should be grateful that you didn’t just turn up the gravity and let me get smushed.”

“If I did that I’d have to find someone else to fix it when it breaks again,” Vegeta said. He eyed her body appreciatively. “Besides, I might want to do that again sometime.”

“Why Vegeta, was that another compliment?” Bulma snickered. “Well, for the record, you’re a good lay too.”

“Vulgar woman,” Vegeta muttered.

Bulma checked her clothes then laughed. “Have fun training, don’t break anything too soon.”

As she made her way up to her room Bulma was all but humming. She could have sworn there was a hint of affection in Vegeta’s voice when he called her vulgar and there had definitely been a touch of a color in his cheeks. “Cute!” Bulma giggled.

Her blissful mood faded when she saw the picture of herself and Yamcha sitting on her night stand. “He cheated on me first,” Bulma told the picture. “I’ve got nothing to feel guilty about.”

She flopped down on her bed and tried to reclaim the euphoric high that lingered after great sex but the feeling had melted away like ice cream on a summer day leaving behind nothing but a sticky mess. Bulma made a face and headed toward the shower peeling off her clothes as she went.

“I was going to dump Yamcha and move on anyway,” Bulma muttered as the warm spray cascaded over her body. “So I got a little bit ahead of myself with the moving on part. What’s the big deal?”

“Oh Kami, Yamcha’ll blow a gasket if he finds out who I moved on to.”

“Wasn’t that the point?” a little voice reminded her. “After all the times he’s cheated on you didn’t he deserve it? That was why you wanted to seduce Vegeta in the first place, wasn’t it?”

Bulma groaned and banged her head against the tile. In retrospect the whole idea seemed pretty petty, not to mention massively stupid. Sure it had all worked out okay but that moment when she’d been honestly afraid Vegeta would rape her told her she didn’t know Vegeta well enough to be sleeping with him.

Bulma had a feeling that a relationship with Vegeta was going to turn out to be a lot like a roller coaster ride: once started it was the laws of physics not the passengers who dictated the pace and getting off in the middle spelled almost certain disaster. But then Bulma had always loved the thrill of a good roller coaster ride.

But Yamcha! Bulma had wanted to hurt him, still Vegeta wasn’t just another guy. Yamcha hated Vegeta.

“But Vegeta changed,” Bulma told herself. Yamcha needs to get over it. People change. Just look at Piccolo: one day he’s Goku’s biggest enemy, the next Goku’s letting Piccolo raise his son for a year... Okay not so much let as Goku died and no one else was strong enough to stop Piccolo from taking Gohan. Of course if Goku had really been worried he would have had them wish him back immediately instead of spending a year training with King Kai while Piccolo had Gohan, so Goku had as good as let Piccolo have his son. And look at how it turned out: The green guy was practically Gohan’s second father these days. Chichi and Yamcha were both idiots for hanging on to old, outdated grudges.

Besides, it wasn’t like Yamcha had to know. Bulma didn’t see Vegeta as the type to act all couple-y in public. Hell, she was positive he wasn’t going to give up quarreling with her in private let alone in public. Insulting her seemed to be his favorite past-time when either his body or the GR gave out and he had to take a break from training. Bulma didn’t see him giving that up just because they’d had sex. More likely they’d simply alternate between arguing and screwing.

Bulma grinned wryly. Not that she really wanted Vegeta to stop arguing with her. It was refreshing after so many years of the guys letting her walk all over them because they didn’t know how to stand up for themselves except with their fists. That was something which left them at a loss when they disagreed with a person they couldn’t honorably punch. Sure she liked getting her way but sometimes it made her feel like a spoiled brat being indulged by the adults around her. Vegeta could argue, he didn’t let anyone win for any reason. When she got her way with him she knew it was because he couldn’t refute her point, not because he was indulging her.

No, there was no reason for anyone to know about her little thing with Vegeta. It probably wouldn’t last so making it public knowledge would just cause unnecessary upset.

She would just go over to Yamcha’s place and break-up with him because he was a lying cheat. There was no reason to bring up Vegeta, it would just hurt Yamcha.


	7. Awkward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Communication is never easy.

Bulma stood outside Yamcha’s door for several minutes reminding herself of every other time Yamcha had done this to her, building her anger so nothing else would slip out. When all she was thinking about was just how many times she’d been through this particular scene she banged on the door.

“Bulma!” Puar squeaked as the talking cat let her in. Puar snatched a lip-stick stained glass off the table and hid it behind her back. The feline stared at the ground awkwardly, she felt guilty on Yamcha’s behalf.

“Don’t worry about that Puar,” Bulma said grimly. “I found out this morning.”

“Yamcha!” she shouted. “Get out here! I’ve got something to say to you!”

“Bulma, you’re here,” Yamcha said. His face lit up hopefully as he stepped out of his bedroom.

“Oh Yamcha,” Puar sighed sadly under her breath.

“Well I’ve heard it’s good etiquette to break-up with someone face to face - Instead of letting them hear from friends that you were on a date with MISTY!” Bulma hissed. “Or maybe you were hoping you could see her behind my back and I’d never find out!”

Yamcha’s face hardened. “Sorry I didn’t understand the etiquette of the situation. I’m just a bandit from out in the sticks, not a city girl like you,” he said sarcastically. “But I figured I’d already got my walking papers when you made your priorities clear.”

“What are you on?” Bulma snapped.

“You’d rather spend time with that murdering monster than with me!” Yamcha shouted.

“He’s not - he changed,” Bulma stammered as her gaze dropped to the floor. Then her anger rushed back. “I was helping Vegeta get ready to fight the Androids, remember them? The ones that are going to kill everyone? That’s all I was doing with Vegeta while you were sleeping with my ex-friend! If you think your jealous fantasies are going to get you off the hook for cheating on me, think again buster!”

Yamcha snorted in disbelief. “Etiquette served now?” he asked. “Well you know where the door is.” He stomped back into his bedroom and slammed the door.

Bulma stomped out of the apartment and slammed that door even harder.

Puar floated in the center of the living room looking from one closed door to the other. Hesitantly she knocked on Yamcha’s door. “Yamcha?” she called softly.

“Go away Puar,” Yamcha said in a choked voice. “Just leave me alone.”

“Oh Yamcha,” Puar sighed.

 

* * *

 

Bulma leaned into her father’s lab. “Daddy, could you take care of Vegeta’s repairs today? I need to finish up the designs for the meeting with Omni Inc. Monday.”

“Of course sweetie,” Dr. Briefs replied.

“Thanks,” Bulma said.

‘It’s not that I’m avoiding Vegeta,’ Bulma told herself. ‘It was just that I broke up with Yamcha because he cheated on me, NOT because I want Vegeta.’ That being the case it felt wrong to go straight from dumping Yamcha to Vegeta’s bed. Even if no one but her knew it still felt wrong.

So she wasn’t going to seek Vegeta out. Not right away anyway. She’d let the dust from the break-up settle. Then, when the time was right, she’d move on...

Or Vegeta would force the issue. Then it wouldn’t be her fault if she moved on a little too quickly.

 

* * *

 

Vegeta scowled at the old man repairing the GR. The blasted woman was avoiding him.

They’d both enjoyed the sex. Now, for no reason, she was avoiding him. She was one of the very few beings he’d met whose company was tolerable. Watching her work was much more enjoyable than watching her father. The woman had implied their- Vegeta snarled at the word that came to mind -their relationship would continue. But now she was avoiding him.

Was there something the idiot woman expected him to do?

‘I ought to go find her and take what I want.’ Vegeta ground his teeth together. But what if she had changed her mind? -Again- He’d probably kill her and that was unacceptable. He wouldn’t have her if she were dead.

‘Annoying- no. Infuriating woman!’ What was he supposed to do with her?

 

* * *

 

Why wasn’t Vegeta doing anything?

‘He wasn’t supposed to stand for me ignoring him!’ Bulma thought. Maybe it had been long enough since she dumped Yamcha. Still! Did Vegeta expect her to seduce him again? Well it wasn’t fair. She wasn’t going to be the only one to make a move in this, this affair they were having.

She wasn’t going to chase after him like she was some desperate groupie! She had her pride too!

With other guys she would have expected dinners, flowers, courting. She was already giving Vegeta a huge allowance because he was Vegeta and what else could she expect? But enough was enough. At the very least he had to say he wanted her once and a while without her coming on to him first.

 

* * *

 

Six! Six meals with the Briefs family in as many days and the woman was probably going to fail to be there again anyway.

‘She is making me insane!’ Vegeta snarled.

And yet here he was, planning on enduring another meal with Bulma’s parents just in case she decided to show up.

He was willingly going to subject himself to an hour of Bunny Briefs fussing over him. Vegeta cringed, the first time the woman’s empty-headed mother tried to feed him he’d assumed the food was poisoned. No one could be that cheerful and friendly toward him unless they had an ulterior motive. But even after almost two years of knowing her Vegeta still hadn’t discovered her ulterior motive and she was still being nice to him. Vegeta wondered if someone had dropped her on her head as an infant. If a blow to the skull could turn a Saiyan into; Vegeta’s lips curled back in disgust; Son Goku, who knew what one could do to a mere human.

The woman’s father was less objectionable. He displayed the same bizarre lack of hostility and lack of fear as his wife but the old man was less pushy about being nice to Vegeta.

Still they did things for him. They didn’t see to want for much of anything, especially not anything Vegeta could be expected to provide. They didn’t seem aware that Vegeta could kill them if he so chose, so they weren’t trying to appease him. Hell; Bunny Briefs had been the one to suggest recreating an environment where he was comfortable when she ran into him wandering around the compound in the dead of night and realized he had problems with insomnia. And, to the best of Vegeta’s knowledge, Bunny hadn’t shared her knowledge of his weakness with anyone.

They were both clearly insane but he was still willing to associate with them for the chance to see the woman. And she was only moderately less insane than her parents. At least she had a few comprehensible explanations for her behavior toward him.

Vegeta stalked into the dinning room. He glared at Bulma’s empty chair for ten minutes then stalked back out without saying a word.

Bunny sighed and started transferring the extra dishes back to the insta-freezer.

“Hard worker, that boy but a bit temperamental,” Dr. Briefs commented.

“I think he’s just missing Bulma’s company dear,” Bunny replied. “He seems to be able to open up to her a bit more than with the rest of us.”

“She has been burying herself in work ever since her latest break-up. She and Yamcha really ought to make up their minds. This waffling back and forth doesn’t do either of them any good.” Dr. Briefs sighed. “Bulma’s usually such a decisive girl.”

Bunny smiled mysteriously. “Oh I wouldn’t worry about that anymore. She just needs to let her head catch up with her heart.”

 

* * *

 

For several day Capsule Corp was besieged by a steady, drizzling rain. When the clouds finally broke Bulma found herself irresistibly drawn outside of her labs. She stood in the courtyard, her eyes closed and her face tilted back to soak in the sunshine.

Bulma sensed Vegeta’s presence even before she opened her eyes, still it took her several moments to pick him out of the shadows around the GR. He was watching her intently. His face was a mask of impassivity but the yawning emptiness was back in his eyes. For a moment Bulma could have sworn she could see gapping holes in his soul, things that even Shenlong hadn’t been able to heal when the Eternal Dragon repaired the literal hole Frieza had torn in Vegeta’s heart.

It hit Bulma then. He didn’t know what she expected from him, he didn’t have a clue. Vegeta was missing the basic skills for connecting with another person in a positive way. Waiting for him to meet her half-way was pointless, because he simply couldn’t do it.

Bulma caught Vegeta’s gaze then, slowly, crossed the distance that separated them. Vegeta watched her cautiously, but with each step she took life filled the emptiness in his eyes.

“I missed you the last couple of days,” Bulma said as she reached up to rest her hands on his chest. “I was sort of hoping you’d come drag me out of the lab, but I guess you were pretty busy training, huh?”

Vegeta stared down at her for a moment, then decided to accept the excuse she’d offered him. “Yes,” he said as he brought his hands up to rest on her waist.

Bulma smiled, she leaned into him. Vegeta’s arms closed around her more securely. Bulma brushed her lips lightly against his throat. Vegeta’s breath escaped in a silently exclamation. He took to the air for a brief moment with Bulma in his arms. They landed on the highest roof of Capsule Corps.

Bulma grinned, “Looking for some place private?”

“You’re the one who worries about someone walking in on us,” Vegeta replied.

“True,” Bulma agreed. “Damn, I’ve needed this.”

Vegeta’s mouth quirked upward in his almost non-existent version of a smile, ‘Next time I’ll just grab her.’


	8. Rough Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conflicting moral beliefs

Bulma tossed her crop-top in the closet with an irritated humph. She didn’t know what she’d been thinking when she pulled it out of her drawer. She was trying to keep her -thing- with Vegeta secret so why had she grabbed a shirt that was practically designed to frame and display the hand shaped bruises on her waist?

Bulma snickered at the memory of how she’d gotten those marks; that little maneuver had certainly caught him by surprise. She remembered the pleasured gasp and the look of open startlement shattering Vegeta’s mask for a few moments, his hands spasming on her waist for a fraction of a second until he regained control. It was a major accomplishment to get even a second of openness out of Vegeta.

Bulma sighed dreamily. When Vegeta touched her she could feel how careful he was, how much he restrained his overwhelming strength. Her fingers brushed past the bruises, even when she had broken his control slightly he was still careful of her, there were deep grooves in the metal frame of the bunk now from Vegeta grabbing it so he wouldn’t grab her at times. Feeling that much care in his touch made her feel loved.

And then there was reality.

Bulma grimaced. Reality was Vegeta was that careful because he had to be, if he were any less careful he’d kill her. Bulma had heard about Goku knocking Chichi through a wall in an innocent moment of carelessness. Chichi hadn’t been happy but apart from a few bumps and bruises she’d been unharmed by the incident. Chich was a fighter, she’d been a Tenkaichi Budoukai semi-finalist when she was younger. Bulma figured that the difference between her own strength and Chichi’s was comparable to the difference between Yamcha’s strength and Piccolo’s. If Bulma had been the one knocked through a wall she’d need a hospital, not a few bandages.

Vegeta’s delicate handling of her didn’t mean he loved her; just that he still had use for her.

Bulma pulled on another shirt.

She didn’t want to fool herself. She tried not to read more into Vegeta’s actions than was there but it was hard sometimes. Sometimes she wanted to believe he really felt something for her but considering everything she knew about Vegeta that seemed like a huge risk. She didn’t want to get her heart broken if he turned out to be incapable of love.

 

* * *

 

Several weeks after Bulma and Vegeta’s relationship began Bulma attended a conference on advanced materials.

Bulma thumbed through her notes as she walked out of the symposium. None of it was anywhere near advanced enough to solve her problems. Even if she’d had access to cutting edge military research it still wouldn’t be advanced enough to cope with a Saiyan determined to smash through all limits.

She paused under a street lamp. ‘But there were some good ideas here. Some ultra-resilient materials she hadn’t heard of before. Fresh view points to kick-start her own thinking and get the GR over the 500 G hump before Vegeta got too impatient.

Without really thinking about it Bulma noted that the crowds streaming out of the lecture hall made it unsafe for her to deploy a capsule there. She turned down an alley still reading her notes.

She was already using a honeycomb design for reinforcing the GR but this bit about honeycombs within honeycombs down to the molecular level, that was an idea. It was just a theory in the other scientist’s paper, but she felt sure she could turn that theory into reality.

Bulma kept walking for several minutes before it occurred to her that she was alone. She tucked her notes under one arm while she dug out her box of capsules.

As soon as she had them they were slapped out of her hand. For a moment Bulma’s gaze followed the shiny little box as it skittered away across the dirty pavement then she turned on the man who’d struck her.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Bulma demanded planting her fists on her hips and glaring in a way that would have had all the Z-fighters cringing and looking for cover.

The man just chuckled darkly. “Pretty, rich girl all by herself in the wrong neighborhood. What do you think I’m doing? ...I’d say: whatever I want to do.”

Bulma dropped her papers and crouched slightly. “I’ll have you know I’ve faced off against guys that would make you wet your pants and I’m still here.” Bulma didn’t mention that was because her insanely powerful martial artist friends generally intervened on her behalf.

“Oooh, I’m scared of the little girl,” the man laughed and reached for Bulma.

She kicked him in the nuts and turned to run. The man collapsed to his knees but he lunged forward and caught her ankle. He yanked and Bulma fell. The rough asphalt ripped into her hands as she caught herself. The man started dragging her back to him. “You’re gonna regret doing that,” he snarled.

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” a cold voice informed the man.

“Vegeta,” Bulma whispered. Relief left her feeling weak.

The man drew a gun, “You still wanna play hero?” he asked.

“I suppose you want me to assume you can use that ridiculous thing,” Vegeta remarked. He sounded bored.

One on top of the other the gun barked, Vegeta’s hand blurred into invisibility and Bulma screamed.

Vegeta glanced at the bullet between his fingers with mild amusement. “So you can operate it. You can even aim. And it still does you no good what so ever.” He flicked the bullet back at the man. There was a moment of dead silence in the alley. A thick ribbon of blood slowly ran across the bridge of the man’s nose then down his face.

The sound of his body hitting the pavement seemed unnaturally loud to Bulma. She stared at Vegeta. She saw traces of amusement mixed with irritation in the set of his mouth but his eyes were void of anything. Bulma shivered. From the look in Vegeta’s eyes killing a person meant less to him than killing an insect meant to her.

“Will your authorities care about this trash?” Vegeta asked.

Bulma’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly. She scuttled backwards away from Vegeta. None of the others would have killed an enemy who was so vastly outclassed. Vegeta hadn’t even considered the possibility of resolving the matter without a fatality.

“Woman! I’m not in the mood to decimate your police forces,” Vegeta snapped. “Should I bother to dispose of the body or not?”

Bulma cringed. “You killed him with a bullet from his own gun,” she said in a flat, lifeless voice. “They’ll think it was a ricochet.”

Vegeta nodded and turned away. “Well? Shouldn’t you be deploying one of your vehicles?” he said. “It would be an annoyance to rescue you from your own stupidity twice in one night.”

Bulma scrambled after the capsule case she’d dropped. Her hands were shaking so badly that she dropped the case as she tried to open it.

Vegeta caught it before it could hit the ground, even though he’d been at the other end of the alley a moment earlier. “You really are hopelessly inept tonight,” he said.

Bulma blinked up at him in confusion.

Vegeta sighed. He tucked the capsule case back into Bulma’s bag then picked her up and flew back to Capsule Corps.


	9. Complications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adding a kid to the equation

Bunny Briefs sat outside her daughter’s bathroom door and flipped through a magazine.

“I can’t be pregnant!” Bulma wailed. “I’m on the pill.”

“Sweetie, you’re a scientist, you know perfectly well what 98% effective means,” Bunny replied a bit tiredly. “So who’s the father?”

“Mother!!”

“It shouldn’t be too hard to check, what with Yamcha being human and Vegeta being Saiyan,” Bunny suggested.

“How did you know?” Bulma stammered, she been so careful about hiding her relationship with Vegeta.

“It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s going on when you see a man climbing out of a girl’s window first thing in the morning,” Bunny replied tartly. “Is the baby Vegeta’s?”

“I-” Bulma began uncertainly then trailed off.

“It has been quite a while since Yamcha was around,” Bunny pointed out.

“I don’t know who’s I want it to be,” Bulma said quietly.

Bunny was silent for several moments. “Bulma-chan, I think you’ve gone past the point...”  
  
“Maybe the test’s wrong, it happens.”

“Bulma,” her mother said quietly. “You are making a doctor’s appointment then you’ll know for sure. But you should start thinking about what you’re going to do.”

“I need some time to think okay?”

“Of course, sweetie,” Bunny replied. “I’ll just go call the doctor for you.”

Bulma threw herself down on her bed, as her mother shut the door behind her. Deep down she knew that the test wasn’t wrong, but...

“Yamcha and I have been dating forever and he wanted to marry me. After Goku made that weird comment about me having a baby... Damn that is really weird! It’s like he knew this was going to happen... Yamcha started driving me nuts about getting married.” Bulma glanced toward the spot on her night stand where the picture of her and Yamcha used to sit. “That might have been why he started looking at other girls this time. He wanted to get married, I didn’t. He never outright proposed but then he probably knew what I would have said. That could make a guy think about looking for another girl. Yamcha would probably make a good dad, he was always real good with the kids who wanted his autograph. If I said yes, Yamcha would come back to me. If the baby’s Yamcha’s there’s no question about it, he’d come back, he’s a good guy. It would be just like it’s always been, except there’d be a baby.” Bulma tried to feel enthusiastic about that. “Well, if we were married he couldn’t say just taking another girl out on a date isn’t cheating anymore. It’d be better.”   
  
“I want Vegeta, if he walked through that door this instant and touched me... we’d be naked in under a minute.” Bulma stared into the distance. “But Vegeta’s broken inside. There are parts of him that are just missing, a basic respect for life for one.” Bulma shivered as the memory of Vegeta’s empty eyes when he’d killed the man who had attacked her. Always before when Vegeta’s eyes went empty Bulma had interpreted it as a protective mask to hide his loneliness, but that time... That time she’d seen the mask on his face, a mask of amusement at the killing of someone who was absolutely no threat to him, but that mask hadn’t reached his eyes. In his eyes Bulma had seen nothing, he hadn’t felt anything about killing that man. She’d always thought it took a psychopath to have eyes like that. There was nothing in Vegeta that saw killing as wrong.

Kindness was literally an alien concept for Vegeta. He didn’t know how to respond to it and he’d never demonstrate it. He was possessive, arrogant, obsessive, inconsiderate, selfish and demanding but he needed her. He didn’t send her off to her room to wait for the Androids to kill them all, he asked for her help. He did need people but the part of him that should have let him reach out to others was broken, he needed her bridge that gap for him.

And in spite of everything that made Vegeta a pain in the neck, not to mention downright scary, Bulma liked him in addition to lusting after him. She liked his quick, biting intelligence, his determination and the hints of something better that she saw in him. And she knew Goku liked him too, which was reassuring. Goku wasn’t the brightest guy around but his intuition about people was pretty good. She knew Goku would give anyone a second chance, but he didn’t want just anyone to stick around while they were making use of that second chance. She’d seen his expression when he noticed that Vegeta was still with them a year after the battle on Namek. She’d seen that Goku was genuinely happy that the other Saiyan had stayed. Bulma smiled a little, whether Vegeta liked it or not he had a friend in Goku. But maybe this time Goku was wrong about Vegeta, maybe they had both been wrong about there being something more to Vegeta than the planet purging monster who’d nearly killed them all the first time he came to Earth.

“No,” Bulma insisted to herself. “No, he’s changed, he’s changing, I know he is. I know he’d never hurt me, not physically.”

“But Vegeta as a father?” Bulma asked herself. “I’ve never even made a date for sex with him, it just happens. I can’t ask him if he’ll still be interested in sleeping with me next week, how the hell would I ask him if he wants to raise a kid with me?”  
  
“And what if I did ask him and, by some miracle, he said yes?” Bulma wondered. “Vegeta’s only interpersonal relationship skill is intimidation and he considers ripping a person’s ego to shreds to be good fun. What kid would want a parent like Vegeta?”

Bulma looked out the window sadly, “Vegeta’s going to disappear the minute he thinks I’m getting too close to the damaged places in his soul. He needs me and I need that, but he’s going to hate it the moment he realizes that.”

Yamcha was the safe, easy choice, and yet... “And yet nothing,” Bulma said to herself. “It would never work out with Vegeta anyway.”

 

* * *

 

Bulma sat on the step in front of the GR and waited. This wasn’t the sort of conversation one could have over a vidcom. It wasn’t the sort of conversation she wanted to interrupt Vegeta’s training with either and so she waited.

When Vegeta stepped outside he frowned at her. “What are you doing woman?”

“Could we talk?” Bulma asked.

“Since I haven’t found a way of shutting you up you might as well.” Vegeta smirked, “Well, there is one way but we’re in full view of your parents here.”

Bulma looked miserable. “We can’t keep doing that,” she said.

“Why not?”

“I’m pregnant,” Bulma said without looking at him. “We haven’t been together very long. I think it’s Yamcha’s.”

“So? Get rid of it.”

Bulma glared at him. “Sometimes I really, really hate you,” she said. “You don’t care about how I feel at all, just about what’s convenient for you.”

Vegeta turned his back on her and started walking away.

“Even if you were the father I wouldn’t want you involved!” Bulma shouted after him.

He kept walking.

Quietly enough that Vegeta didn’t think a human would have been able to hear Bulma added, “It’s okay for me. I know you can’t love me but it wouldn’t be fair for a baby. How’s a kid supposed to understand that?”

 

* * *

 

Bulma stood outside of Yamcha’s apartment. She took several deep breaths, reminded herself that she and Yamcha had been together practically forever and everyone had always expected they’d get married someday then she knocked.

Puar opened the door when the little feline saw Bulma she smiled in relief. “Oh Bulma! I knew you’d come back,” she squeaked. “I know Yamcha’s an idiot sometimes but he really loves you.”

Bulma forced a smile. “I know. I -um- need to talk to him. Is he here?”

Puar nodded. “He’s not exactly in the best shape for talking right now but if you just say hi then come back tomorrow I’m sure he’ll be great.”

“What’s...” Bulma started to ask then she noticed the whiskey bottle rolling across the floor behind Puar.

Bulma rolled her eyes and marched inside. She found Yamcha slumped on his couch, bleary-eyed and miserable looking. “Geeze Yamcha! This is pathetic,” Bulma snapped.

Yamcha blinked up at her. “Bulma! You came back!” he slurred. He stood up unsteadily and embraced her.

Bulma’s nose wrinkled at the smell of stale alcohol and didn’t return the gesture.

“I thought you were gone for good this time,” Yamcha continued tearfully. “I’m sooo sorry I cheated on you. I never did it before. Never ever! But I was just so mad ‘cause I thought you cared more about that- that- VEGETA! Than me.”

Bulma guiltily endured Yamcha’s drunken embrace for several more minutes then decided enough was enough and pushed him off her. “Yamcha, I’m pregnant,” she announced.

“We’re gonna have a baby?” Yamcha grinned goofily. “We’ll get married and have a baby and I’ll get a regular job where no one’s gonna kill me...”

Bulma turned to Puar. “I’ve got a doctor’s appointment the day after tomorrow. He’s coming with me and he better be sober.”

Puar nodded seriously.


	10. Doubts

The doctor gave Bulma a stern look. “Ms. Briefs, you really should have come in as soon as you began to suspect that you might be pregnant.”

“I did!” Bulma protested.

The doctor frowned skeptically. “While the fetus is unusually small its development is consistent with the end of the first trimester,” he said.

“But I...” Bulma glanced at Yamcha uncertainly. “I’ve been really busy lately; I guess I must have lost track of my period.”

Yamcha smiled. “That makes sense,” he said thinking that even though he and Bulma had only been broken-up for about a month it had been quite a bit longer than that since they’d had any ‘quality time’. “You’re going to have to start taking things easier. Vegeta’s just going to have to find someone else to order around.”

Bulma’s shoulders hunched. “I don’t think that will be much of a issue,” she said. She imagined that Vegeta wouldn’t want to see her ever again unless it was to see her dead.

“Now, now. You don’t want to completely disrupt your schedule,” the doctor interjected. “You should maintain a light exercise routine.”

“You can’t actually be missing that egotistical megalomaniac treating you like his slave!” Yamcha exclaimed.

“Leave it alone Yamcha!” Bulma ordered and he subsided.

As they left the office Yamcha hesitated a moment then said. “Do - do you want to help me pick out a ring?”

“What?” Bulma asked.

“A- a wedding ring,” Yamcha stammered. “I -uh- just figured you’d want to be married before the baby’s born. And well; you’re already three months along and...”

“Oh... yeah. I guess so,” Bulma said without enthusiasm. “But not right now okay? I’m pretty tired. I just want to go home.”

Oh - right. Of course,” Yamcha exclaimed. “Do you want me to fly you back?”

Bulma grinned a little. “As long as you mean fly my jet-copter when you say fly. I am wearing a skirt after all.”

“Sure Bulma, no problem,” Yamcha said. “Just be sure you rest when you get home instead of letting you-know-who con you into doing stuff for him.”

* * *

As soon as Yamcha dropped her off Bulma called Chichi.

“Moshi-moshi”

“Hi, it’s Bulma.”

“Bulma? I’ll go holler for Goku,” Chichi said.

“Oh no. I um, I wanted to talk to you, Chichi” Bulma said.

“You do? Why?” Chichi asked bluntly. She’d never really gotten close to Goku’s friends and she knew that she hadn’t made a particularly good impression on them since the whole thing with the Saiyans began.

“I, well, um, I was wondering what it was like being pregnant,” Bulma asked awkwardly.

Chichi laughed quietly. “I’m the last person you want to ask about that. My experience is hardly going to compare.” Despite her words Chichi continued. “To start with Gohan was born after just six months. The midwife absolutely panicked when I went into labor. She packed me in the truck and ordered Goku to get me to the hospital post-haste. So there’s Goku trying to explain that he doesn’t know how to drive and that Kinto’un is faster anyway and the midwife is shoving both of us in the truck and screaming at him. Thank goodness she eventually managed to calm down enough to tell him the baby could have been in serious danger. I swear, someone’s life has to be on the line before Goku will remember he’s a grown man. Anyway, he took charge and got all three of us to the hospital right smart.”

Chichi sighed happily. “Of course Gohan was perfect. Although I almost had to punch the doctor to get him to stop obsessing about Gohan’s tail and tell me that he wasn’t premature. Some people just get so hung up on trivial details.”

“So Saiyans have a shorter gestation period?” Bulma asked.

“Well, we didn’t know that at the time, about Goku being an alien, but it’s most likely the case,” Chichi said. “I didn’t show until the last few weeks of the pregnancy and then I just ballooned up like a blimp.”

“I guess that makes sense with what we know about Saiyans,” Bulma commented. “They don’t do anything but fight. They send their infants off to conquer planets, of course a Saiyan pregnancy would leave the mother-to-be in fighting form for almost the whole gestation period.”

“I suppose, you’re the scientist after all,” Chichi said. “All I can tell you is my pregnancy wasn’t the typical experience. Are you and Yamcha thinking about settling down and having kids?”

“Something like that,” Bulma said.

“Best of luck with that,” Chichi said. “I’ll tell Goku and Gohan you said hello.”

“It was good talking with you Chichi,” Bulma replied.

“Yes it was. We really should talk more often. It’s nice to have another girl to talk to,” Chichi said unexpectedly.

After she hung up Bulma wrapped her arms around her knees. “Baby, you better not take after your father,” she said. “ ‘Cause I already burned that bridge.”

“Maybe I’m just being paranoid,” Bulma continued several minutes later. “I don’t keep very good track of my period. It’s always been a little irregular; I wouldn’t have worried right off. It was just the throwing up on top of being late that had Mom buying me that test. It probably is Yamcha’s.”

That thought failed to lift Bulma’s spirits. “What’s wrong with me baby? It’s like I don’t want you to be Yamcha’s or Vegeta’s.”

 

* * *

 

That night Bulma woke abruptly. She jerked bolt upright, her heart in her throat, as if from a nightmare. Then she realized that the nightmare had only begun.

Vegeta sat in the window of her bedroom. The moonlight turned him into a figure carved of onyx and alabaster: cold, unmovable, completely alien. His eyes were lost in the shadows and his face held no expression.

Knowing the gesture was pointless but helpless to stop herself Bulma pulled her blanket up in front of her like a shield.

Vegeta crossed the room with a silent, stalking tread. Gently he pushed Bulma’s hands down, stealing her flimsy barrier, leaving her with nothing to hide behind. He reached out to cradle her face in his hands. “You’re mine,” he said softly.

In that moment Bulma’s dearest wish would have been to see Vegeta’s eyes, to see if they were her lover’s eyes or the empty eyes of the killer. “Vegeta please,” she whispered. A tear trickled down her cheek. Vegeta leaned forward and tasted it.

Bulma shivered, she couldn’t have said if it was more out of desire or fear.

“I could always kill him,” Vegeta said almost conversationally. “I don’t give up what is mine easily.” His hands lightly traced across her shoulders and down her arms.

“I’d never forgive you that,” Bulma replied.

Vegeta rested his hand over her heart and she knew he could feel it pounding wildly against her ribs.

“No,” Vegeta said after a long silence. “That would be... irrevocable, even after he was wished back.”

Vegeta’s hand drifted lower to rest over Bulma’s still flat belly.

And, somehow, Bulma could sense he was bewildered. Then, moving too quickly to be seen by her eyes, he was gone.

Bulma sat in the middle of her bed. She hugged her knees to her chest and sobbed because she was afraid of what he might have done. Because she wished she’d given him the chance to stand by her. By morning she’d almost convinced herself that it had been just a nightmare.

 

* * *

 

Vegeta stood in the center of the Gravity Room. He smashed the intercom then turned the setting on the gravity up until Kakarrot was the only other person on the planet who could have survived stepping into the room.

The unborn child’s ki was already on par with Bulma’s. It was impossible that the child was fully human. The child was his.

“I know you can’t love me, but it wouldn’t be fair for a baby.”

Love was a bizarre human concept that he had absolutely no use for and didn’t see why the woman would make a fuss over it but he couldn’t deny that there were things wrong with him.

During his fight against Frieza, when he’d realized that the vicious tyrant was still stronger than he was, he’d just given up. His body hadn’t been broken at that point, he’d been defeated before Frieza even touched him. For most of the beating Frieza had administered he had been disassociated from his own body, it had been like he was watching Frieza kill someone else, someone with no connection to him. During the whole miserable thing he hadn’t lifted a finger to defend himself.

He could remember the child he’d been before Vegeta-sai had been destroyed. In truth he’d been a hostage to keep his entire race firmly under Frieza’s thumb but Frieza had told him that if he were good enough, obedient enough his people would be safe. And just like a naive child he’d believed Frieza. For years his life had been consumed by a mad, hopeless attempt to please the tyrant. Dodoria had though he’d revealed a state secret when he told Vegeta that Frieza had been the one to destroy the Saiyan home planet. Dodoria was a fool, Frieza had shared that secret with Vegeta only days after Vegeta-sai’s destruction. Frieza had done it simply to see Vegeta’s face when he was told that he had been such a disappointment that Frieza had been forced to wipe out his entire race. And in that moment he’d hated his people even more than he hated Frieza. He hated them for being so weak that they’d placed their fate on the shoulders of one small boy. He hated them for not being strong enough to survive.

As he matured he had come to understand the truth of the matter. He came to understand that it wasn’t because of him, that he’d never held the sort of influence over Vegeta-sai’s fate that Frieza had implied he had. Frieza’s words were nothing more than the finishing move in head game Frieza had been playing with him since the moment the disgusting lizard took him from Vegeta-sai. It didn’t matter, the only thing that had lifted the burden of guilt off his shoulders had been blaming the Saiyans for their own deaths.

Every time his father had come to visit him during the years he’d been Frieza’s hostage the King had told Vegeta how strong he was, how proud his father was of him for growing stronger, for being strong enough to survive in Frieza’s court. Years after it had become an academic question Vegeta had forced Nappa to tell him the truth: he never would have succeeded his father as the Ruler of all Saiyans. He hadn’t been considered fit to lead, not after Frieza had gotten his claws into him. There had been another, a boy who had been carefully hidden away from Frieza. He had been a sacrifice for his people; a way to buy time, to convince Frieza that he had control until the Saiyans were ready to revolt against him. There were days when Vegeta wanted to be amused by the irony of the situation: the one who had been offered up as a sacrifice had been the only one strong enough to survive. But most of the time he clung to the legend of the Super Saiyan and the only thing his father had been able to give him as he grew up: hope. He’d grown up clinging to the belief that he would eventually become strong enough to defeat Frieza and then, finally, the exiled boy would be able to come home as his people’s hero. But heros were overrated, there had been no saving Vegeta-sai and even if he had saved them he still would have hated them for choices they’d made.

Bulma thought he was unfit to be a parent and he found he couldn’t really disagree with her assessment. He’d spent all but the last three years of his adult life making damn sure he’d never know if he, by some chance, fathered a child because as long as Frieza ruled him the only thing he could have offered a child of his blood was death.

The woman and the brat didn’t need him and... and he didn’t need the distraction from his training that they represented.


	11. Make up Your Mind

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong Puar,” Yamcha declared as he threw himself down on his couch. “We’re getting married, Bulma’s having a baby, but she just seems to get more distant everyday.”

“She was too tired to shop for a ring again?” Puar asked.

“Yeah,” Yamcha said. “We still haven’t set a date either. I thought she’d want to be married before the baby was born.”

“She still has four months right?” Puar asked.

Yamcha made a strangled sound halfway between despair and anger.

“What did the doctor say?” Puar asked hesitantly.

“He revised his estimate for the due date again. At least I’ve got black hair,” Yamcha said fatalistically. “I wish she’d just admit it’s Vegeta’s.”

“You’re sure?” Puar asked.

“I called Goku, asked him how long a pregnancy lasts. He said six months,” Yamcha replied. “Bulma’s doctor hasn’t noticed a tail yet but I don’t need to be clubbed over the head with the truth to get it.”

Puar patted Yamcha’s shoulder sympathetically.

“I don’t even care,” Yamcha said. “After Missy, Misty... whatever her name was, I don’t have a whole lot of room to throw stones. We’ve both made mistakes. I just want her back.”

Puar looked troubled. “Yamcha, don’t, well maybe, do you think Bulma might have, well, feelings for well, you know...”  
  
“She doesn’t love him!” Yamcha exploded. He leapt off the couch and glared fiercely. “Vegeta’s a cold-blooded murderer, a monster! She can’t love him! He’s all wrong for her, for any decent person. Hell, I’d say he was a horrible human being except he’s not even that. According to him Goku makes a lousy Saiyan and that says a whole lot of bad about Saiyans.”

Puar wrung her hands together.

“Bulma made a mistake, now she knows it. She’s gonna have a baby, she’s gotta think about the future. She had a fling with Vegeta but there’s no way she wants someone like him as a permanent part of her life,” Yamcha declared forcefully.

* * *

 

“Bulma! Look who came to visit!” Bunny chimed as she showed Puar in.

The little feline looked unusually serious. Bulma found she couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact.

“I’ll just leave you two to chat,” Bunny excused herself.

“Stop it Bulma,” Puar said quietly. “Stop stringing Yamcha along, he deserves better than to be your safety net.”

Bulma bit her lip and stared at the floor. “I- I’m-“

“Just stop,” Puar said then left.

* * *

 

As Yamcha drove Bulma to her doctor’s appointment he knew something was wrong. She was quiet and pensive, staring out the window and chewing on her lower lip.

“Hey Bulma, don’t worry,” Yamcha said. “I know the baby’s development is unusual but the doctor says he’s healthy.”

Bulma smiled weakly at his attempt to cheer her up and wondered if he and Puar knew.

When they arrived at the office Yamcha helped Bulma out of the car. They had just started walking toward the entrance when Bulma cried out and her knees buckled. Yamcha caught her before she could fall. He held her as she doubled over cradling her stomach.

Yamcha counted backwards it had been four months since Bulma had told him she was pregnant; he’d heard of human babies being born over a month premature. “Are you going into labor?” he asked worriedly.

Bulma gave a sickly laugh. “Don’t be silly, I’m no where near due,” she said. “The baby just kicked.”

Yamcha’s mouth tightened unhappily. “Could I feel?” he asked quietly.

Bulma nodded and guided his hand to the spot where she’d felt the last kick. After a few moments her whole body jerked. Yamcha picked her up and walked into the office. The kick he’d felt would have done a five-year-old proud.

“We have an appointment,” Yamcha yelled to the receptionist as he carried Bulma past the front desk.

“But the doctor’s running late” the receptionist protested.

Yamcha kicked the doctor’s door open and marched in much to the shock of the doctor and the other couple. “This is an emergency!” he announced.

“Dammit Yamcha!” Bulma exclaimed. “Put me down! I told you, the baby just kicked!”

Yamcha hesitated.

“Put me down right this instant!” Bulma shouted.

The doctor fought to keep a straight face. “She seems alright at the moment. Perhaps you could wait a few minutes while I finished up here? I promise it won’t be long.”

Bulma rolled her eyes and started dragging Yamcha back to the waiting room.

The other men waiting with their wives gave Yamcha amused but understanding looks as Bulma forcefully shoved him into a chair.

“First time?” one man asked Yamcha with a smile.

Yamcha forced himself to reply civilly but his face was set in a fixed expression.

When their turn came he escorted Bulma into the office then announced, “The baby kicked and she collapsed. Do you remember what happened to East City a few years back?”

“Yamcha!” Bulma protested.

He glared at her, “I’m not going to stand by and watch you get hurt because you won’t stop lying!”

“It was destroyed by aliens,” the doctor said. “But what does that have to do with this?”

Yamcha scowled. “The baby’s real father is a super-powerful alien.”

“Chichi was fine with Gohan,” Bulma argued.

“Chichi was the top female martial artist on the planet when she got pregnant,” Yamcha pointed out coldly. “You’re not Chichi.”

“I think we’ll need some additional tests,” the doctor said.

Yamcha nodded then walked out of the office. Bulma ran after him. “I’m really sorry,” she said.

Yamcha closed his eyes for a few moments then pulled Bulma into a moderately secluded corner.   
“You- you don’t have to wait. I’ll call my mom,” Bulma said.

“I just want to know one thing,” Yamcha said quietly. “Do you want to marry me or not?”

A silent tear trickled down the side of Bulma’s nose. “I am so sorry Yamcha,” she repeated.

“You’d rather be with that psychopath?” Yamcha demanded angrily.

“When I told him about the baby he ordered me to get rid of it,” Bulma said. “He doesn’t care about anything but what he wants.”

“Then why not?” Yamcha exclaimed.

Bulma stared at the floor. “Because it’s never worked out between us before,” she said. “Why would a baby change that? He’s not even yours.”

Yamcha turned away from her, “I’ll call your mother,” he said in an icy voice.

* * *

 

Several days later Bulma wasn’t certain she’d done the right thing by cutting Yamcha loose but what was done was done and regardless the baby was going to need a room fixed up for him.

Bulma had found a shade of paint she liked, some decals and a few toys that looked sturdy enough to survive being run over by an eighteen-wheeler, Bulma thought they might withstand an infant demi-Saiyan. She’d found a crib she liked bu the mattress that came with it was not acceptable.

Bulma was almost at the top of the mall staircase when the baby’s kick caught her off guard. The kick hit her squarely in the kidneys. Bulma doubled over in pain and fell backwards. Her skull cracked viciously against the marble steps on the second bounce. She tumbled the rest of the way down like a rag-doll.

There was a moment of dead silence as the other shoppers stared at Bulma’s still, awkwardly contorted body and at the pool of blood slowly forming around her head then someone cried, “Oh my god! I think she’s dead!”

* * *

 

Yamcha was blazing with anger when he landed just outside of the Gravity Room. Without a moment’s hesitation he yanked the override switch by the door and stormed inside.

Vegeta cursed irritably as the sudden change in gravity caused him to bounce off the ceiling when he overcompensated. His power was already pressed to it’s limits and there was murder in his eyes when he turned to see who had interrupted his training.

“She’s dying because of you,” Yamcha accused. “The least you could do is go to hospital and pretend you care.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Vegeta demanded but subconsciously he was already reaching for Bulma’s ki.

“It’s your fault!” Yamcha raved. “If you’d just stayed dead like you were supposed to this wouldn’t have happened. Bulma and I’d be married and we’d be happy and she’d be carrying my child not yours and they wouldn’t be asking me if they can kill the baby to try to save her.”

Vegeta grabbed Yamcha by the front of his shirt and slammed him into the wall. “You were supposed to take care of her!” he snarled.

“She doesn’t want me taking care of her!” Yamcha yelled right back.

Even as they fought Vegeta was straining to sense Bulma. During last few months he’d become accustom to having an almost effortless awareness of her. Where was she? What had happened.

“You took her away from me,” Yamcha continued ranting. “You tricked her into thinking you weren’t a monster! So prove it!”

Vegeta found the child’s ki first. The unborn infant was radiating waves of distress, his ki was overpowering his mother’s. Bulma was so weak the child’s instinctive fight for survival had to be wrecking havoc on her battered body.

//Settle down brat!// Vegeta ordered mentally. //You’re making things worse.//

There were no thoughts in the infants’ response, just raw instinct. Vegeta realized the child would keep fighting until he had killed both himself and Bulma.

Vegeta’s power leapt upward and the GR was simply blown apart around him. Yamcha was sent tumbling head over heels to smack into the ground hard enough to be knocked unconscious by the blast.

Vegeta leapt into the air. He had out raced the sound of speed before he’d cleared the roof tops. //Kakarrot! The woman needs one of those beans! Now!//

//On it!// Vegeta snarled at the uncalled for cheerfulness underlying Kakarrot’s mental voice.

Then he was at the hospital. Vegeta didn’t need the receptionist’s directions, not when all he could feel was the infant’s panic and Bulma’s rapidly fading ki. They led him to an operating room. A nurse blocked his way. “Are you the father?” she demanded urgently.

Vegeta considered backhanding her out of his way; but she had the same fearlessness that he’d come to associate with Bulma and he found he couldn’t touch her.

“Are you the father?” the woman repeated.

“Yes.” he snarled.

“About damn time,” the nurse muttered too quietly for a human to have heard. “The baby is over three months premature. It will not survive but we need your permission to abort it so we can save the mother.”

//Kakarrot!! Stop fucking around!// Vegeta shouted both mentally and verbally.

The nurse stumbled backward in shock when the younger Saiyan appeared beside Vegeta a second later. As Goku pressed a senzu bean into Vegeta’s hand he stared into Vegeta’s eyes, whatever he saw there brought a smile to his face but Vegeta didn’t have time for Kakarrot’s inanity.

Vegeta pushed past he younger Saiyan and walked into the operating room.

The first thing he saw was Bulma’s leg, the knee cap was twisted off to the side, the whole leg was swollen and covered in bruises. The leg was ignored by the doctors as they focused on the life threatening injuries. Bloody sheets hid the incision in her torso but Vegeta could sense the child’s wild rage at the intrusion into his sanctuary.

Vegeta moved one of the doctors working around Bulma’s head aside and froze for a moment, half her face was purple with bruises, her hair had been shaved away and her scalp laid open to bare a long crack in her skull, greyish matter seeped out of the jagged wound. There were -things- drilled into her skull holding her neck stationary. Vegeta had both inflicted and suffered much worse injuries than these but somehow seeing them on Bulma made them uniquely disturbing.

People were shouting at him, telling him he couldn’t be there. Vegeta didn’t even hear them. He carefully opened Bulma’s mouth and inserted the Senzu bean. Nothing. //Swallow!// he ordered. The force of his anger at feeling helpless manifested physically and knocked everyone except Bulma several feet back.

Bulma’s throat moved. Vegeta watched in fascination as her wounds healed before his eyes, even her hair grew back. The baby calmed and after a few moments Bulma’s eyes opened. She looked around with a puzzled expression then saw Vegeta and smiled. “You did it,” she said.

Vegeta started to ask what she meant. Then he caught sight of his reflection in a stainless steel panel: teal-green eyes stared back at him from the reflection, he had become a Super-Saiyan. The shock was enough to knock him out of his ascended state.

Almost in a daze Vegeta walked out of the operating room and into Goku.

“What are you smiling about?” Vegeta snarled.

“You really care about Bulma,” Goku replied delightedly. “I was worried it was just a sex thing. Bulma might act like she’s okay with that but I don’t think she’d really be happy and I’m sure Trunks would have been disappointed if his parents weren’t in love.

Vegeta stared at Goku in horror as the younger Saiyan went on about it being good for Vegeta to have someone to care about. For a moment he wasn’t seeing Goku, instead he was seeing Radditz as the teenager fought against Nappa’s restraining hold. Radditz’s eyes had glowed with madness, he dislocated his own shoulder while trying to get to his mate. Vegeta could feel the girl’s neck snap under his hands and he saw Radditz’s sanity breaking in front of him.

He glanced back toward the room where his Bulma had almost died and fled.

 

* * *

 

Just over two month after the accident Dr. Briefs opened the car door for his daughter then helped her get the new baby out of his car seat. “Look Trunksie! This is your home,” Bulma cooed.

“You’re home!” Bunny exclaimed as she rushed outside. “Let me hold him!”

“Careful Mom,” Bulma said as she let her mother take Trunks. “His strength is closer to a ten-year-old’s than a newborns.”

Bulma glanced toward where the GR sat. “He’s not here is he?” she said.

Dr. Briefs shook his head. “No one’s seen Vegeta since your accident.”

Bulma nodded. She started walking toward the GR.

Her parents exchanged a look. “Maybe we should let her have a few minutes,” Dr. Briefs said.

Bunny nodded. “We’ll get this little one settled then I’ll check on my baby.”

Bulma shut herself in the GR. For several minutes she just stood there then she yanked one of the panels off and hurtled it across the room with a scream of frustration. She started pulling out components and sent them flying at the far wall. After the first one a steady stream of profanity accompanied the bangs.

When Bunny opened the door twenty minutes later she found Bulma kneeling head down in the center of the mechanized carnage, completely spent.

“I knew he was going to leave,” Bulma said. “I didn’t know how much it would hurt when he was gone.”

 

* * *

 

Vegeta stared across the harshly barren landscape; the most inhospitable the plane had to offer; for a long moment then he screamed and his power levels started spiraling upwards.

He knew he could become a Super Saiyan now but he had to be able to trigger the transformation at will. He didn’t have time for any distractions from his training, that was the only reason he hadn’t returned.

Once he mastered the transformation he’d defeat the Androids and his debt to the woman would be gone. Then he’d defeat Kakarrot and leave this planet in the dust.  
  
There was no reason to stay and every reason to go.

 

 


	12. Epilogue: First Step

The battle against Cell was over. Mirai Trunks had returned to his own time. Goku had chosen not to be wished back to life. Gohan and Chichi had retreated to Mt. Panzo to sort through their confusion and grief; Piccolo was keeping an eye on Gohan.  
  
The battle was over and normal, day-to-day life resumed... for everyone except Vegeta. For Vegeta the battle and the last four years of intensive training, first to fight the Androids then the year in the Room of Space and Time preparing for Cell with the future version of his son, had been normal life. Fighting and preparing to fight had been Vegeta’s entire life for as long as he could remember. Now there was no looming threat to prepare for. Frieza was dead, Cell was dead, the Androids had ceased to be a threat... His rival was dead and had chosen to stay that way.

For a passing moment Vegeta considered Gohan as a rival then dismissed the thought with a disgusted sneer. Gohan might be the strongest of them all, at the moment, but he was no warrior at least not the way his father had been. Gohan didn’t want to fight, his true potential was buried under a pacificist’s soul. To truly test himself against Gohan Vegeta would have to litter the planet with bodies and after five years of freedom from Frieza’s abuse Vegeta remembered that he didn’t really enjoy killing non-combatants.

Since the day he was born he’d been raised as a warrior, but there was a difference between killing someone in battle and killing the ones who didn’t fight. There was no glory or any reason to take pride in killing the ones who simply stood there and watched him with hopeless eyes as he executed them.

As a small child Vegeta had become a butcher at Frieza’s command because Frieza had told him his own people’s continued existence depended on his obedience to the tyrant. So Vegeta had done as he was told and if clearing a world’s populace got to him occasionally... Well he was careful to hide his reaction because it wouldn’t do for Frieza to think he was weak, not when he was supposed to prove his people’s worth to the lizard.

When he was ten Vegeta-sai was destroyed and he rebelled against Frieza. It had been a child’s rebellion: refusing to do as he was told any longer because he believed there was nothing more Frieza could do to him. Frieza had beaten him to a bloody pulp then dumped him on a colony world populated by a race who’s home world had been decimated by a Saiyan team. He spent a week being hunted like an animal, fighting not to black out at an inopportune time. When Nappa had finally been allowed to come for him he’d knelt before Frieza without prompting and begged for forgiveness. It was then that Vegeta knew Frieza didn’t need the fate of the Saiyan people to hold over his head all he needed was Vegeta’s own life.

By the time Vegeta was fifteen killing meant nothing to him it was like breathing, he did it to survive but never thought about it. The only thing he’d felt had been hate and the rush of battle. On his fifteenth birthday he’d been with Frieza for just over a decade. The following two decades of his life only brought more of the same.

Learning of the Dragon Balls had given him back hope of defeating Frieza. Dying at Frieza’s hands, dying after acknowledging that he hated how Frieza had twisted him, dying with the knowledge that Kakarrot would accept the burden of avenging their murdered race had burned away the sort of hate that had consumed Vegeta’s sanity. When he was revived he was different. He woke up remembering who he’d been instead of just who Frieza had made him to be. And the simple fact was he didn’t have a taste for the sort of carnage that would be required to motivate Gohan to fight.

Vegeta considered leaving Earth behind. Frieza and Coola had been the strongest the Universe had ever seen. Vegeta was much stronger than either of them now. He could go out and conquer an empire but he couldn’t seem to find the energy to even think about it seriously.

He’d considered asking Trunks if it would be possible for him to go to Trunks’ future with him. There were still Androids to fight in that time and as Vegeta understood it Cell would come to their timeline by killing the boy after Trunks killed his time’s Androids 17 and 18. The boy was forewarned now but he wasn’t nearly paranoid enough. The only way Vegeta could be certain that the fool boy wouldn’t get himself killed again was by being there to guard his back. But Trunks’ time machine was only designed to carry one passenger so like it or not Vegeta was simply going to have to trust his son to take care of himself.

Vegeta looked toward the horizon. After several minutes a small black dot resolved itself into Bulma’s jet-copter. Vegeta watched expressionlessly as it zeroed in on his position.

Bulma eventually found a flat spot to land in then clambered across the rocks to Vegeta’s perch. She stood there and stared at him for several moments. Vegeta considered ordering her to say whatever she’d come to say or leave but he didn’t know that he wanted to hear what she had to say and he wasn’t entirely convinced that he wanted her to leave so he said nothing.

Bulma sat down beside him without saying anything. They watched the clouds moving across the sky in silence for a time.

“You miss him don’t you?” Bulma asked quietly.

“Who?”

“Oh! You miss both Trunks and Goku.” This time it wasn’t a question.

“Feh,” Vegeta said dismissively.

Bulma patted his thigh sympathetically. “I miss them too.”

She smiled crookedly, her eyes gleaming with tears. “I watched Goku grow-up. He’s one of my best friends. I can’t believe he’s not coming back. And Trunks... I know his timeline needs him and that he’s got a mom there who wants him back but I wish we could have kept him here with us.”

Vegeta inclined his head slightly.

“You know, I miss you too,” Bulma said hesitantly. “Trunks, my-our baby, is still here. I think he’d like to have his father around.”

“Do you know why Kakarrot chose to stay dead?” Vegeta asked.

Bulma blinked at the apparent non-sequitur. “Goku said he attracts trouble and...”

“He wasn’t human enough to understand his own son,” Vegeta interrupted. “Kakarrot remembers nothing before coming to this planet and still it was an android who understood the key to unlocking Gohan’s power, not Kakarrot.”

“What?” Bulma exclaimed.

Vegeta turned to face her. “Kakarrot screwed up and nearly got his son and this entire world killed in the process,” he stated. “When Kakarrot gave Cell that senzu bean he thought his brat would react like he would have, like a Saiyan would have reacted. He knew Gohan had the power to destroy Cell. He assumed the challenge of a good fight would bring out that potential. It didn’t work. The challenge of the fight wasn’t what brought out Gohan’s power, it was the need to protect and avenge.”

Vegeta looked away. “Kakarrot should have fought Cell to his last breath. He would have lost but it would have unlocked Gohan’s potential. Android 16 and Cell showed us that. Kakarrot sacrificed himself to correct his earlier mistake. He stayed dead so he wouldn’t repeat it.”

Vegeta stood up and turned toward the precipice. His posture told Bulma he was a second away from flying off. “If Kakarrot wasn’t human enough, if his son was better off without him, what chance do I have? What child would want me for a parent?”

“Trunks would,” Bulma said quietly. “You saw the way he watched you when he first came back. He grew-up with Gohan for a father-figure but he still wanted to know his father. He wanted you. If -and I do mean if- you’re right about what Goku was thinking he was only making another mistake by staying dead. The way things are now he’ll never have the chance to learn to understand Gohan. You may not understand Trunks now, but if you come home with me you’ll learn as he grows up. And, hell Vegeta, he’s half-Saiyan too. I won’t understand that part of him. I don’t understand you but I still missed you when you left. Come home, we’ll work it out. Together.”

Bulma caught his hand and after a moment Vegeta let her tug him a step toward her.

 


End file.
